


Everybody Wants A New Romance

by gala_apples



Series: The Loverboy Diet [4]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - High School, Bathroom Sex, Dirty Talk, Fasting, First Dates, M/M, Moving, Polyamory Negotiations, Urban Fantasy, revealing secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-17 05:21:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3516995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last time Michael faced a proposal so life-changingly significant, he was being offered the chance to run back into the closet and properly follow the Good Book and be forgiven. At least this offer doesn't mean shitting on his own happiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday- Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has Michael emancipated from emotionally abusive and intolerant parents. I have purposely done zero research on his RL family and siblings, because that's my personal RPF line in the sand. I don't even know their names. Anything I've written about them is surely not true. This is seconded about everyone else's families.
> 
> Everyone's above the age of consent in this fic, but there are some high school/college relationships, and it's implied this relationship has gone on a while.
> 
> This fic also has non-con magical curses leading to non-con kissing.

Michael wakes up suddenly, heart pounding like a techno beat with his startlement. Someone’s knocking on his door. Not a normal rap-rap-rap and done. It’s a rapid booming knock, like a yeti with a sledgehammer. So much for Morrison Tower having a charm to mute neighbourly noise. Either it was a bullshit lie from the time he signed his lease, and it’s just gone untested until today, or someone’s found a loophole. It’s not Michael’s job to know. That’s for the men upstairs. Or downstairs, technically. Michael’s pretty sure Gavin copped to living downstairs when his lie got outed.

An adrenaline rush in preparation for fight-or-flight is not the best way to start off a Monday morning. It’s already the first day of his exile, he doesn’t need anything else on top of it. The sentiment only doubles when Michael opens his eyes. There’s no light filtering through his makeshift bedsheet curtains, it’s as dark as it was when he went to bed. He doesn’t know the exact time, but it’s dawn at best. Whatever this is, it’s un-fucking-necessary.

The way he sees it, there are four options he might face. It could be Gavin, wanting a late night hook up. Pro being Gavin still wanting him, con being side by side orgasms don’t necessarily mean Team Dynamite is good. It could just as easily be a drunk man or woman trying to come in from a back door smoke getting off on the wrong floor. In that case Michael’s going to have to meet belligerence with belligerence, make them fuck off despite their drunken certainty. Slightly higher up on the awkward scale, but lower on the potential danger scale is someone providing a late night service, like take out or drugs or prostitution or magic, with the wrong apartment number. That way all Michael has to say is ‘not my order, bro, thanks anyway’. Worst case scenario is someone crazy. Last month a neighbour wanted to use Michael’s landline because people with no heads were trying to set his couch on fire. Who the fuck even has a landline anymore? The studio floor is not the floor with the highest quality tenants.

No matter what it is, he has to answer the door. The knocker has made their persistence clear. If he doesn’t make the noise stop, someone on this floor -possibly even the floors above and below- will kick his ass. Michael considers grabbing his phone from where it’s charging in the corner, but doesn’t. The chances of having to call 911 are low. He can take anyone. Timothy was a fluke.

On the other side of the door is Jack. He looks a lot less put together than he did at ten. Not that Michael can talk, he’s all matted curls and boxers with material washed so thin he could spit through it, and one of the legs is riding up high enough that it’s half in his ass crack. Whatever. He has a right to be sleep disheveled, he’s been slammed awake at something like three in the morning.

“Is there a reason you want my neighbours to murder me?”

“What,” Jack asks, clearly confused. Whatever this is about, the magician obviously didn’t expect to be interrogated. Well, fuck him for expecting an open armed greeting. Michael’s fucking _sleepy_ , and the air conditioning is shrivelling his dick. Congeniality doesn’t come in those conditions.

“Your hands are basically battering rams,” Michael explains, irritation leaking into the syllables. “There’s no way the floor didn’t hear the last five minutes.”

“They didn’t. It’s a spell, only the intended hears my knock.”

Michael grins, a teeth baring beauty of sarcasm. “Well that’s good, I guess. Any reason you want me up at dawn? I get that Gav probably guilted you into lowballing. Did you decide you want some back breaking labour to pay you back? Am I like tilling a field or something?”

“What? No.” Jack crosses his arms defensively. It’s interesting that a bear of a man can be intimidated by what boils down to a dumb skinny teenager in boxers.

“What then?”

“I want to offer you something.”

“Jesus. Just come in.” This is obviously gonna be a capital T Talk, and Michael’s not having one leaning in his doorway. Even if he doesn’t have an entire floor of neighbours observing, there’s still a chance that any of the previously brainstormed situations could still happen. Michael’s never actually seen a magician with a mission be shouted at and distracted by a obnoxiously plastered person, but prime time tv suggests it’s not good.

“You should never invite people in. What if they’re vampires?” Jack jokes.

“Are you,” Michael asks pointedly.

“What? No?” Jack makes a confused face at him. “Seriously though, do you have a bad intentions charm on the doorway? To make sure you’re safe. You realise this isn’t the best apartment block.”

“Do you wanna fuck me up?”

“No of course not.”

“Then it doesn’t matter.” Gavin’s done things in his apartment - _to_ his apartment- a few times, but he’s never really explained what. Michael’s never quizzed him about it. He can respect boundaries like a goddamn champ, and Gavin’s are visible from space. So if Gav doesn’t see fit to tell his master’s best friend and occasional spit roast buddy what he did that day once he gets home, Michael doesn’t have much more to say.

“I always forget how cold these apartments are,” Jack comments as he crosses the threshold out of the hallway.

“Yeah, guess Gav and Geoff come to you.” Michael’s a goddam gentleman, cutting himself off there. That way Jack can chose to believe he means for magic tutoring, not ass plundering.

“Sometimes they do,” Jack agrees, friendly enough. “Geoff’s a great teacher, don’t get me wrong, but I have a more dedicated space. There are some things that are harder to do in a building with five hundred tenants than a single person home. _Man_ this is cold.”

Michael points out “and you’re wearing pants.” His boxer shorts are a hell of a lot thinner than the jeans the bigger man’s got on. 

Screw it. In one swift move Michael climbs back on his bed and under the blanket. He stays sitting up, but with the blanket pulled to his neck so only his back is bare. If Jack wants to be treated more professionally he can call Michael to his home office in the afternoon, like a normal person.

Rather than comment stupidly that yes, he is wearing pants, or being a dick about professionalism, Jack gets awkwardly quiet. Michael’s about to tell him get on with it or fuckin’ cuddle up on the other side of the bed, because he’s going back to sleep when Jack does break. Not that they’re very useful words. “I don’t know how to say this.”

“Fuck it man, just say it.”

“You should come live with me.”

The statement is so off anything Michael might have expected Jack to say that he doesn’t know how to answer. Who could have a prepared response for a question that out of the blue? A delusional person, someone schizophrenic or bipolar, for which nonsensical non-sequitors are a common thing. That or a magician trained in thinking about every scenario at all times. But Michael is neither, so he just stares up at Jack.

“I think you should. I want you to.”

That at least has an easy reply. “Why?”

“Because I always knew it killed Gavin to not be able to help his boyfriend but I didn’t get it until last night. It wasn’t personal until last night. You deserve better things than you can afford. If you moved in with me I could help you out.”

“That’s stupid. I’m doing fine.” For levels of fine, at least. It’s not like he’s going to be living under a bridge. The more important point is how often did Gavin complain about his situation that Jack’s ‘always known’ about it? Not even Geoff, but Jack.

Jack scoffs. “You didn’t sound like it when you asked if I could make you win the lottery.”

“Who doesn’t want to win the lottery?” Michael combats the statement with pure logic. Because really, who doesn’t want to be on a sandy shore in Tahiti, beach house totally paid off? It’s a wish that goes for more than moderately broke people, Michael’s sure of it.

“Look, your parents royally fucked you. Let me unfuck you.”

Michael’s barely listening to the older man, busy wondering what Gavin’s told him about his goddamn family. No way it was Ryan. Even though they know each other already -even if they met by Ryan wanting to buy a hex to fuck up one of the Jones brothers- Ryan wouldn’t just casually complain. Jack wouldn’t have enough proof to claim ‘royally fucked’ if it was from Ryan’s point of view. Thanks to the inattention it takes a moment for Jack’s second sentence to kick in. Then the offer makes a lot more sense. Jack thinks he’s hot. Jack wants to jump his bones. What better way to make that happen than to offer room and board?

“Right. That’s what you want out of it. To not fuck me.”

“Michael, no. This isn’t some sugar daddy thing. One of the requirements to go from journeyman to master is to have a place you can welcome a new journeyman. Even if you’re the most proficient magician in the world, if you can’t host you’re not considered a master. I have a guest room by necessity. Take it.”

“You sleeping down the hall and not in my bed still doesn’t convince me you don’t want to fuck me.” 

“Do I have eyes? Yes. Would I ever coerce someone? I have a friend who’s wealthy from the stock market, so he does only pro-bono magic. His specialty is rape cases that the legal system failed. You don’t learn the effects of that and not get disgusted by the concept. You shouldn’t really be a human being and not be disgusted by the concept.”

“So it’s not suck for rent. Is it just less?” Even twenty bucks less is money that doesn’t come from his college fund to pay for utilities. Twenty bucks less is enough to make Michael consider this insanity. Maybe that’s pathetic. Maybe he just knows when he has to put his foot down and when it’s okay to lift it up a little. He’d suffer through anything to not go back home. Going to Jack’s is not the same scenario. Even if Jack hacks him to death and bottles his blood to put in his ingredients cupboard, Jack won’t be doing it because he’s a sinful faggot who deserves to die, and deserves what comes for him after death.

“No rent at all. Until you can live with Ryan save your money.”

“You’re just gonna let me live in your house for free?” It’s so fucking hard to believe that it’s that easy. Nothing’s ever that easy. Nothing has ever been that easy, since the first time Ezekiel threw a dirt clod at him at recess for playing with the girls, not the boys, and when Mom got mad that he was covered in soil at lunch and Michael tried to put the blame where it was due, Dad said Ezekiel was looking out for him like a brother should, to make sure he didn’t become a pansy. It took a good eight years to realise he was gay, but that was the day he realised he didn’t fit in his family.

But maybe he fits with magicians, or at least magican adjacent, because Jack nods, then further explains, “I’m kinda pissed at myself for not offering it earlier.”

“Which is why you had to tell me at three am?”

“So what do you say? Do you trust me enough to park yourself in my guest room for a bit?”

Chances are this will end badly. Most things do. Almost everything, if you lengthen the timescale you’re working on. But the real question is, how long can Michael stretch out the time until that implosion? Even one month’s saved rent and groceries would be worth suffering through a lot of guest rules.

“Enough, yeah.”

Michael gets out of the warm spot of his bed then. From the way Jack’s not relaxing or leaving it’s pretty clear that this move is happening right now, not at a decent hour. The air conditioning is no less brutal for the temporary respite. It takes Michael less than ten seconds to give in and pull his robe on. It’s a bit girly, there’s no way bear Jack has a fluffy robe at home, but it’s the lesser of two evils. Michael’s not about to get dressed in front of the man. It’s easy to say you won’t objectify someone. It’s harder to not look at someone you find hot when they’re stripping. It wouldn’t be fair to Jack.

“You should ask Gavin to help you pack.”

“I don’t really have that much shit,” Michael mutters as he surveys his apartment. It’s a studio, he can see everything in one sweeping look. He really doesn’t have a lot. If not for the few pieces of furniture, he could probably move internationally with just his two suitcases.

“Not the point, dumbass.” It’s eerie how much Jack sounds like Ryan when he’s talking smack.

“So what is your point?”

“We fucked up as masters. Not with safety or skill, but with the community aspect. Geoff knew, _we_ knew he was keeping you from us. We didn’t realise it was as bad on the other side. What happened earlier? He’s not mad about what you think he’s mad about.”

Michael glares at Jack. What a bullshit statement. “You know that’s actually the second time I’ve heard that? This week.”

“I don’t know what happened the first time, but this time it’s true. It was a lot less about you impinging on their relationship and a lot more about wishing you’d never met. We talked to him about it. At freakin’ length. It’s possible we managed to dislodge his head from his ass. Ask him to help you move.”

That’s completely obnoxious. It’s basically what Ryan did, telling Gav to change his opinions and feelings. Michael’s going to go downstairs with the specific order that Gavin do and think whatever he wants about anything.

“Great, sure, whatever. More talking, just what everyone loves. Except when that particular truth nuke dropped, he didn’t actually say what apartment.”

“Five fifteen,” Jack replies instantly.

“It’s just that easy,” Michael mutters.

It completely isn’t. Jack’s not the one who has to have a talk with someone who’s either mad at him or brainwashed into not being mad. Still, for that shit alone, Michael has to. No one’s sticking up for Gavin’s right to think what he wants. Michael can be that champion, even if it bites him in the ass. Or, you know, blows up in his face, to use a dynamite metaphor.

He doesn’t take the robe off to go down two flights. Frankly, being swaddled in polar fleece won’t make him the oddest three am hall wanderer. The hallway’s a bit warmer than his apartment, but not enough to make Michael want to disrobe. No doubt part of the chill is the starvation settling in. According to the skin-crawling ana blog he checked it’s also supposed to make him fatigued, irritable and dizzy. But considering the surprise wake up, the first two are already acceptable and he hasn’t fallen over yet, so who knows.

Apartment 515 doesn’t look any different from the rest of the doors on the fifth floor. There’s nothing proclaiming that two magicians live behind the painted metal. There’s no hint that beyond the threshold is something Gavin’s been lying about for years, and never intended anyone to know, ever. Michael takes a deep breath and raises his arm to knock. Here goes...well, fucking everything, really.

“Michael!”

“Hiya, neighbour!” Michael exclaims, over-cheerful. Until he knows how this is going down, might as well be his normal obnoxious self. Honestly he’s kind of surprised that the teenager is answering the door, not the master magician, but what does he know? Maybe the apartment does have one of those no-ill-intentions barriers Jack was talking about, and it would be safe for a toddler to answer a middle of the night knock.

Gavin yawns. It’s a full feature gesture, squinted eyes and wide open jaw and scrunched eyebrows. “Can’t we boff in the morning? I am absolutely mullered right now. I don’t even know if I could get hard.”

Michael’s not sure what to do with that response. Hopefully it means that Gavin’s okay with him, that Geoff used his elderly wisdom and wiles to make sure that Gavin gets that the kiss wasn’t an attack on him. Considering that the alternative to Gavin coming to his senses is Gavin throwing shade about Michael’s sluttiness, Michael has to go with the first.

“We’re not doing that. Would have been nice, knowing I could do that whenever we wanted, but that’s not this.”

Gavin frowns. “What then?”

“So Jack’s cool, right?” Michael’s pretty sure, but this is the sort of thing that deserves a second opinion. He’d say the more opinions the better, except he needs to stay away from Geoff, and Ryan isn’t going to share how he knows the man, so his own and Gav’s will have to do.

“Yeah. Unless I’m being a right cocky prick, then he wants to hit me.”

“That one hundred percent does not count. No one in the world doesn’t want to hit you when you’re overconfident.” The words are out before Michael remembers that he doesn’t know how tense Gavin feels towards him. Stupid. Just so fucking stupid of him, picking a fight before the last one is even for sure over.

Luckily Gavin doesn’t seem to take it badly. “What do you want then?”

“I think I’m moving in with Jack? Like, right the fuck now, actually. I was hop-” Michael cuts himself off and rephrases. “Help me move.”

“Michael, I have to go to school in a few hours,” Gavin whines.

“Well I’m not exactly happy about the fact that I don’t, okay? Jack offering this is a rare nugget of good luck and it’d be super awesome if you didn’t piss on it.”

Michael hears the voice before he sees its owner. “What the dicks is going on?”

It’s Michael’s third time in the presence of Geoff, but his first where the man’s not groomed. His hair is ruffled. His chest is bare, except for the orange and blue ink of fantasy tattoos. His pyjama bottoms sit low enough that Michael can almost see his pubes. His moustache isn’t curled out. If Michael had one word for the tousled look it would be sexy. Geoff doesn’t look like he just got out of bed, he looks like he just _got out of bed_. It’s embarrassing to think mere seconds after being worried that Gavin might believe he’s a slut, but there it is.

“Michael’s moving out.”

“Moving in with your friend,” Michael tacks on. No doubt Geoff has more than one. He probably has a hundred; he’s a smart, funny, hot man who fits in least three different scenes -the master scene, the punk scene, and the gay scene- and he looks like he’s old enough to have just graduated college, which is prime friend-making time. But thanks to yesterday they both know he knows Jack, so why clarify?

Geoff scratches his inner thigh through the plaid flannel. “He didn’t say anything to me.”

“I think he just came up with the idea. But he wants me and I want free rent so why the fuck say no?” 

The reason to say no hits Michael about twenty seconds too late. Pathetic, kind of, except Michael’s not running on all cylinders right now, and is willing to cut himself a break about that. No one is at the top of their game when they’re tired, cold, starving, and thrown off by everyone around them acting irregularly. Unless they’re some sort of super spy. Michael doubts he’d be good at spying. Even if he loved his country enough to dedicate his life to protecting it, he’d really rather just shoot bad people in the face over infiltrating and sending info back home.

The reason is obvious. If Gavin and Jack is a thing, and Gavin and Geoff is a thing, the chances of Jack and Geoff being a thing are really high. Maybe Geoff doesn’t want his sex dungeon being converted back to a spare bedroom. Maybe he doesn’t want to make breakfast in bed for two and an annoying freeloader. Or maybe Geoff’s reverse magiphobic. That kind of thing happens. Hell, the guy who hexed all the groceries no doubt had hate in his heart for non-magicians. Michael’s not sure he buys it in this case, he’s supposed to be Gavin’s perfect complement, and Gavin’s not magisupremacist. But it’s possible.

“Well that’s a great two am choice.” Geoff rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Gavin, hurry your ass up about it because you’re not skipping first period.”

“Okay Geoff.”

When they get back to the seventh floor apartment, Jack’s done a little. Not a lot. Either the charm is more difficult with one person, or Jack’s spent the time making sure Michael doesn’t have any dirty secrets. Michael could get mad about the potential snooping. There’s a way there to flash back to his brothers going through his shit on behalf of his parents. But he doesn’t. It’s fair for Jack to be snooping. Why would he want a secret alcoholic or junkie or wild magic collector in his house?

The magic he _has_ done looks like the same charm from yesterday. It’s a pillowcase stiffened into a long box, not a garbage bag. The charm’s probably a bit different, since it has a different base. But maybe not. That’s not Michael’s department, and he’s not risking magician’s fugue to ask.

Jack’s obviously got magic on the mind. The first thing he says after a quick greeting to Gavin is, “so you threw all the hexed food out already?”

“Yeah, yesterday. Uh, Saturday yesterday, not technical yesterday because it’s not tomorrow until the sun comes up.” Which is possibly Gavin-style logic, but Jack’s a master, and a man who invited a basic stranger to live with him. He should understand quirky logic.

“It shouldn’t affect any animals that get into it, but uh. Do you have many homeless people in the area? Or those freegan people?”

Gavin snorts. “You’re here all the time, have you ever seen someone asking for change?”

“Wouldn’t matter anyway. It’s not edible, even for some anti-waste hipster. I wrecked it. I was pissed.” It still pisses him off now, speaking in general terms. He just probably couldn’t manage a fit of the same calibre. At least not right now. Actual tomorrow, maybe. 

“So you haven’t eaten anything since yesterday?”

“Friday, technically. Found out my food was poison before breakfast. Don’t tell Ryan?”

“I’ve got this.” Gavin takes the few steps to the kitchen and opens a cupboard. Finding it bare he does the next three in quick succession. 

“I told you, I destroyed all my hexed food.”

“Yeah, but what about the before groceries?”

Michael crosses his arms tightly. The fuzzy hem balled in his fist stops his fingernails from cutting into his palm. “How fucking long have you known emancipated me? Have I ever had multiple shopping trips in one paycheck?”

Gavin stands frozen with his fingers still on the last cupboard door, totally called out. It takes a moment before he bursts into a flurry of activity. He picks up Michael’s keyring and lobs it at Jack. “Carry something to your car, we’ll be right back.”

Gavin then latches onto Michael’s wrist, hand jammed up the loose polar fleece. Gav’s pulling him back out into the hallway, back down to his own place. Michael goes willingly. It’s not like his boi is about to take him out back and shoot him to put him out of his misery. Gavin’s going to feed him like they’ve got a kink for it. Not true, of course. If he gets a boner later it won’t be because he’s just eaten, it’ll be because Gavin’s groped him or said something dirty. Still, Michael wouldn’t say no to enough food to make his waistband tight.

Michael’s never been in a multiple bedroom apartment in this complex. He’s never even been in a normal apartment. Even when he was negotiating with the landlord about being an underage but legal adult he told her not to bother showing him anything but a studio. He can’t help but be curious. The first thing he notices is that Geoff and Gavin’s apartment is a riot of colours. The foyer is spring green, and Michael has a second to see the bright cyan and white living room before Gavin takes him to the kitchen. That room’s a dark red, like the juice of a barely cooked steak. It kind of makes Michael want to hunt down a buffalo and spear it to death.

Gavin throws the fridge door open and gestures. “What do you want to eat? Choose anything.”

There are some Tupperware containers that are tempting. Michael’s had bites of Gavin’s leftovers at lunch before, and not once has he had the thought that Gavin would be better off buying something from the counter. There are about fifteen stacked on the middle shelf, making Michael wonder why Jack thought Geoff needed to shop. They could live off bits and pieces for a week. Middle class privilege, he guesses.

Gavin sighs. “This is that horse between hay bales thing, issenit? Everything’s great so you pick nothing? Try saying ‘what’s the best thing in this thing?’. It’ll work.”

Michael repeats the sentence. It’s a jumble of words, but Gavin or Geoff probably did that on purpose, so no visitor would say them accidentally and be startled. The next thing that happens is something in the freezer bumps up audibly against the underside of the bottom shelf. Michael opens the fridge-wide drawer and a bag of pierogies float up a few feet. Michael wouldn’t have even thought to ask Gav if he had any, but now that he sees them, he wants them. Pierogies are the kind of luxury food he can’t justify buying, no matter how much he likes them.

“Really?” Gavin asks. Before Michael can bitch that if Gav had limits on what he could steal he should have said that before letting Michael pick, because yes, he’s totally fucking aware that beggars can’t be choosers, Gavin goes on. “I mean go ahead, but they’ll take a while.”

Michael shrugs and starts looking for a frying pan. “It’s already been over two days. Fifteen more minutes won’t send me into convulsions.”

Gavin frowns at Michael’s triumph of finding a scratched to shit hopefully non-stick pan even as he passes the oil over. Michael’s grateful for the assist, it probably would have taken him five minutes to find it. Everyone’s kitchen is poorly ordered to anyone who doesn’t live in that household. “They’re frozen, don’t you need to microwave them first?”

“Most microwaves buzz when they’re counting down.” Or at least the one at Ryan’s dorm does, threateningly, like it’s one metal fork away from shattering into a million pieces and destroying the idiot who fucked with it. “I think it would be a shitty idea to bug Geoff a second time.”

Gavin snorts. “Geoffrey won’t give a toss. Worst case scenario he’ll want a pierogi from your plate.”

Michael defiantly starts placing the pierogies down, fingertips careful of the oil that’s already beginning to sizzle. “You’re a fuckin’ idiot.”

“What?”

“Fucking. Idiot. Do you want me to make out with him a third time? Because I was under the impression that you are a possessive little bitch, and would shit your spleen out if I ever so much as looked at his lips again.”

Gavin can’t make eye contact. He even looks away for a minute before turning back. “When they’re done give me a bite. You’ll kiss me straight away. You don’t need to waste your toothpaste.”

Michael might be exhausted, but he’s not braindead enough to not pick up on that. He didn’t tell Gavin that’s what the solution is. Gav’s clearly been talking to someone, making sure he’s kept up to date. Michael wants to ask who. If it was Ray it was probably just the info. But if it was Ryan, they might have had the no stupid fake shit convo. And if it was Jack, that’s probably when Gavin got called out for hiding magic. Michael doesn’t ask. There’s a sixty six percent chance that asking will lead to more serious conversation. Since that’s the last fucking thing Michael feels like right now, he nods at the offer of a safe way out of his hex and doesn’t say anything more pointed.

The pierogies are fucking amazing. It’s honestly the only word for the plate full of goodness he’s diving into. Michael hadn’t checked the packaging at any point. It was more comfortable to stand in front of the element with two butter knives in hand to flip them when necessary, Gavin close by. Close enough to spoon, for a minute or two, before Michael broke free from the arms to check the fridge for sour cream. Turns out they’re the potato and onion kind. The best kind, if you ask Michael. The charmed fridge knows what the fuck it’s talking about. Unless it’s a spell? The magic is based on a person and an object working together, so who knows.

He kisses Gavin when his plate is empty. Of course he does. He hasn’t immediately brushed his teeth, and now for the rest of his life if he doesn’t he’ll kiss the first relevant person. In this case that’s his boi. This time is different though. It doesn’t feel like a violation. This is just Gavin, the skinny awkward journeyman Michael fell in love with. Gavin wants to be kissed. Gavin wants to kiss him. This isn’t wrong.

***

“You going to help me move everything into Jack’s?”

Gavin looks at the pile of charmed pillowcase-boxes they’ve got on Michael’s bare mattress, his sheets being folded inside one of said boxes. “Nah. You won’t have a problem getting it all in. Bet it takes you under half an hour.”

“I don’t think duration was the main thing Michael had on his mind,” Jack replies.

Michael doesn’t tend to like people speaking for him, but when they’re right they’re right. Things seem to be going fine with Gavin now, by some non-denominational miracle. He doesn’t want Gavin to fuck off back to bed. If he does, the next time Gavin sees him will be after six hours of everyone talking smack about that crazy kid 201 getting suspended- no, expelled- no, arrested! and an endcap of Geoff. There’s no way to know if Gavin will get through that without his disgust blooming again.

“It’s late. If I hitch a ride it’ll be later, and you don’t need my help and I have a quiz in English. Earlier was crap and I’m tired, okay?”

“Earlier was crap for Michael too.” Jack glares. It’s Michael’s first real sign that this could be a good thing for him. People don’t really glare for his benefit, besides Ryan or Gavin on occasion.

“I know. I get it. I heard it all earlier from you two. But I’m still knackered and you still only have two trips worth of stuff!”

“It’s fine. I get it.” He’s being selfish. He could literally hibernate for a week and be fine. Gav’s gotta be up in four hours.

“Fine, whatever, be an asshole,” Jack mutters. Gavin squawks a little, but doesn’t actually verbally protest. The blessed lack of drama lets Michael transition to the ‘get the fuck out’ portion of the night.

“You want me to tuck you in?”

Gavin grins. “If I said yes, would you?”

“Are you fuckin’ three? No. Fucking go to bed!” Michael kicks it down a notch. “I think Ray’s meeting up with me to give me homework. You should come too.” At least that way he’ll know for sure how much outside influences have fucked Gav’s head up when Michael’s not around to defend himself.

“Cool. Yeah, probably will.” 

Gavin comes forward. He first leans into Jack to give the older man a one armed hug, insult clearly already forgotten. Words don’t really stick to Gavin. It could be friendly, a see-you-later hug that you give to a cousin or a church member, except Michael knows it’s not. It doesn’t bother him though. More than that, he understands it. Jack’s a comforting kind of guy. If Michael didn’t know the cold hard facts about depending on people, he’d probably be into him as much as Gav is. Then Michael gets his own gesture, a kiss on the cheek. He could twist his head for a real kiss, but that would make it a competition. Michael doesn’t want to compete. At least not against Jack. Ray could make for an interesting challenger in the future, keep things like their first time.

Gavin turns the way of the stairs when he leaves. He’ll probably spend his last spurt of energy sprinting down the two flights, and then curl into his covers. Nice for him, but Michael’s still got shit to do.

Elevators are notoriously hard to charm to stay open or closed. It’s one of those things that makes perfect sense to Gav that he couldn’t explain in a million years, even if he wanted to. Michael’s sure Jack -and Geoff- comprehends it too. Even if they didn’t teach Gavin it, even if his boi’s just got innate knowledge Michael can never have, that only means it’s inside every master too. Thanks to the elevator’s magical impenetrability, Michael ends up standing on the crack between the hall floor and the elevator floor. Every minute or so the doors attempt to close. They get as far as his sides before bouncing back open, safety feature triggered. Confident that the doors won’t suddenly go rouge and split him in half, he stands there until Jack’s got all the boxes stacked on the shiny metal floor. 

Five minutes later Michael’s pulling the same human doorstop routine after Jack drives his car as close as he can to the back door. He stays where he is, holding the door open so Jack can hustle boxes a second time. It feels kind of lazy of him, but to be fair to himself, he’s less lazy than Gavin, who’s probably already asleep. Besides, Jack isn’t asking for help. Michael would if he did, but he hasn’t, so why not feel justified just keeping the door open?

Michael’s not surprised to find out all his worldly possessions fit in the back seat of Jack’s car. He didn’t make it out of his parents house with much, and it’s not like he could afford to buy frivolous shit like picture frames or wind chimes. Well, everything except the bed frame, mattress, and coffee table. To get those to Jack’s they’ll probably have to tie them to the roof, or whatever the charmed equivalent is. Maybe Jack could make the mattress just float a few inches above the top of the car and follow them? Who the fuck knows.

“Could we not put the air conditioning on,” Michael asks as Jack pulls out of the parking lot.

“Sure thing.”

Jack’s true to his casual promise. As they start winding through the lamp lit streets Jack skips between two or three radio channels but doesn’t touch the AC toggle. Even so, Michael’s glad he left his robe on, rather than shove it into the top of one of the pillowcases boxes. Shit, he might even wear it to bed, depending on what temperature Jack leaves his house at. At four thirty in the morning, the world is dark and cold.

Jack twists the volume knob close to zero, just enough to hear vague scratchings of music. “I have another idea.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” If Michael sounds suspicious, that’s because he damn well is. This whole thing is pretty obviously too good to be true. This is the point the bomb drops. 

“You should sublet.”

“What?” What the hell? That was not the sound of a bomb dropping. 

“Don’t break your lease moving in with me.”

“Yeah, wasn’t gonna.” That wasn’t actually in his mind at all, but he can’t let Jack hold all the power. The sooner he establishes that Jack can’t tell him what to do, the better.

“Uh, okay. Anyway, you should sublet. Rent your room to someone. It’ll have to be less than a new apartment, but you could be making income, not just saving.”

That actually sounds like a good idea. “Do you know how to do that sort of shit?”

“I can figure it out, if you want? If you don’t mind me taking over?”

Michael snorts and waves his hand. Jack can totally take over the boring adult shit, as long as he understands that it doesn’t necessarily mean that Michael’s going to follow his instructions. 

Third time’s a treat; when they park in front of Jack’s house he does carry in the pillowcase boxes. Only as far as the porch step though, Jack’s the one to bring them into the house.

“Can we figure out where to disseminate everything later and just crash now? I think I’ve lost my second wind, I’m getting pretty sleepy.”

“I was sleepy when you woke me up at three am!” Michael shouts.

Jack barely reacts. “So that’s a yes then.” 

Michael’s pleased to see the guest room is away from the other smaller room that’s probably Jack’s. Beggars can’t be choosers, but it’s nice to know he could have Ray and Gav and Ryan over without being overheard. Ray’s basement is still probably the best place to hang out, but they haven’t lost a secondary location thanks to his move. Actually, this is an even better back-up. His team can have snacks here.

The room is the blankest room to have furniture that Michael’s ever seen. Everything’s white, from ceiling fan to the sheets. The one outlier is the sand coloured wood flooring that runs through the whole house, but it can’t do much against the overwhelming whiteness.

Michael flops onto the bed. The mattress dips underneath him before springing up slightly. So at least it’s good quality furniture, even if it’s as white as living in an igloo. Which, maybe if he says something Jack will let him hang a poster or something. “This is sterile as fuck man. I appreciate you letting me use the room but whoa.”

Jack shakes his head. “It’s part of the journeyman thing. Some of the first spells I’ll do with him or her are colour and design spells.”

“So what’s the first spell?” Might as well ask Jack. It’s not like Gavin’s ever going to tell him. Even now that the seal is definitely broken he hasn’t said anything.

“I would have thought Ryan would have told you. You know Gavin’s journeyman pendant?”

Michael’s rapidly getting the sense that any time Ryan said he wikied magic answers behind Gavin’s back he really just asked Jack. It would make total sense. Ryan’s the kind of guy to go searching out for real answers, not rely on secondary sources. If Jack’s a student or a TA at UT and Ryan found out it’s pretty fucking likely Ryan’s grilled him more than once. It would explain Ryan leading Jack away earlier today too. Better to interrogate the magician he already knows than take chances with Geoff.

He’ll save pinning Ryan down for later though. Right now Jack’s asked him a question. “Yeah-huh...”

“Well apprentices get a different necklace. Not a collar, but a short one that doesn’t slip off. It prevents the unstable child from doing magic until they become journeymen.”

“So a magical slave _collar_.” Michael replies bluntly. If it goes around your throat and can’t come off it’s a fucking collar.

“Fine. Maybe it is.” Jack crosses his arms. This time it doesn’t seem weak and defensive. This time it’s a power stance, Jack being big and strong and secure in his opinion. Michael’s maybe staring at his strained sleeve hem a bit too much. Blame it on the exhaustion. Or hell, Jack said earlier he had eyes but wouldn’t do anything skeevy about it. Michael can have eyes too. 

“Damn right.” Of course it’s a collar. Semantics is a bullshit game. The only time it comes in handy is when writing an essay, or squeaking a lie that’s not a lie based on specific wording past authority figures.

“Don’t act all high and mighty and against it. Apprentice neckl-” Jack rolls eyes eyes at Michael’s raised smirk, “Apprentice _collars_ can stop a child from saying something that destroys the universe.”

“Oh bullshit.” Michael’s seen as many horror movies as the average guy, but they’re _movies_ , which means they’re _fake_.

“No, not bullshit,” Jack corrects sharply. “Easy example. A seven year old with magic gets stung by a bee. What happens to agriculture, food production, the other animals, if that first grader gets pissed and hexes all bees to die? Because that future look a lot like food shortages, a fuckload of the animal kingdom dying, and land erosion.”

“Wouldn’t she, he, whatever, wouldn’t the kid need the powders or whatever? Don’t supply them and everything’s fine, no need for a freakin’ collar!”

Jack shakes his head. “They’re all focusing agents. They help make sure the widespread effects don’t happen. Without them an apprentice mouthing off would be even more likely to do something disastrous.”

Michael winces. “Okay so apprentices can cause the apocalypse. Point fuckin’ made. Consider me wrong as fuck.”

“Anyway, to get back to your question: an apprentice gets assigned, becomes a journeyman, the master undoes their necklace and sometimes gives them the location pendant, and then their first creative lesson is ‘what’s the best way you can think of to destroy your apprentice necklace?’ Kind of endears you to your journeyman, since most of them are happy to get it off with a vengeance. Plus you can see how your journeyman’s thought process runs. That’s important, since how they think is the building blocks for the rest of your time together.”

“What did Gavin do?”

“That’s his story. I know it, and it’s great, but if he hasn’t told you maybe he doesn’t want to.”

“He hasn’t told me dick all about anything! You know that, you said you were gonna bitch at him about it.”

“Yeah, Geoff and I did. But at some point it’s not about keeping secrets and trying to prevent worlds from crossing, it’s about a right to your own past. I’m not going to tell you things he won’t. Just like if you ever tell me anything about your past I won’t share it unless you tell me it’s okay.”

“Fuckin’ Gavin already knows my past! He was fuckin’ there!”

Jack shrugs. “Sorry, but I won’t.”

“Great, you have the moral integrity of fuckin’ Gandhi. That’s great. Did you catch a third wind, or are you going to bed now?” Pleasant code for _get the fuck out of my bedroom_ , Michael thinks.

“Bed now, for sure.” Jack’s almost completely out of the room when he stops and turns around.

“I know you usually wake up pretty early.” Fantastic, another thing that Gavin’s obviously blabbed that Michael has no context for how it came up. Not that there’s anything particularly sinister about wake up times, but it’s the fuckin’ principle. “I’m a late sleeper. I usually get up around eleven. If or when you get up before I do, eat whatever, do whatever. Noise won’t bug me.”

Jack doesn’t say if that’s because he’s a heavy sleeper or if stuff is charmed soundproof. Either way Michael can’t see it coming up, at least not tomorrow. He’s going to sleep in on his first day of suspension. That was already the plan before Jack hijacked the next few months of his life with one statement.


	2. Chapter 2

The sound of an alarm not waking him up is a beautiful thing. Being a modern kind of guy the first thing Michael does is grab his phone. It’s noon, glorious noon, and he’s got morning texts sent a while ago from Ray and Ryan. And one a slightly more substantial from Gavin.

**geoff let me skip come over when your awake i want to see you**

Huh. So maybe Geoff’s not a cruel education task master after all. Good thing, because all that Michael can picture when he thinks the phrase is plaid and ruler spankings. Blame it on the porn.

The time stamp is only an hour ago, and Gavin hasn’t sent a follow-up text retracting the offer, so Michael yawns and mentally agrees. They’ll either talk about some shit, or ignore it and play video games or bang. One would make him happier than the other, but either way he gets time with his boi.

Before he goes though, he should eat something. If Gavin’s pre-homeroom kisses can be trusted, Gavin has a pretty good range of cereals in his cupboard. Michael’s down for any cereal that isn’t KoKo Kats, grudge firmly held, despite it not entirely being KoKo Kats’ fault he got punched in the fucking face. That said, Michael’s got no idea if Geoff’s home. If he is, there’s a chance that the last thing Geoff ate is the next thing Michael will eat. In which case he’ll have to run to brush before the hex wins. It’ll be better to eat here.

Running off the assumption that Jack’s okay with sharing groceries -if not, he’ll find out sooner rather than later- Michael digs into the fridge. It’s as stocked as he thought it would be, considering the man forced Geoff to shop yesterday.

When his omelette is finished Michael gets snagged on the first guest manners issue of what will probably be many. Several, at the least. As much as Ryan and Gavin would prefer he sear every memory of his first sixteen years from his brain, his mother did do a good job teaching etiquette. Still, everyone fucks up sometimes.

The problem is yeah, Michael can hand wash the dishes he used, but there’s no towel hanging on the oven handle. Or hung over the back of a kitchen chair, or crumpled near the sink, or even folded in any of the cupboards he checks. So what’s he supposed to do now? Let them air dry? It would be fine with him, if Gavin or Ryan ever ate something plate worthy at his apartment, but he barely knows Jack. Wet dishes gathering air particles might be something that bothers the man. It would suck to get strike one after less than twelve hours in the house. The only safe thing to do is go a-wandering through Jack’s house.

Michael finds Jack in his office. That’s not all he finds. Ryan’s there. Ryan’s ass is there. Jack’s dick is there. He can’t quite see everything through the half open door, but he can see that much. He could get a better vantage point he moved, but Jack’s got wooden floor boards and Michael doesn’t know what will happen if he shifts his weight and they creak. Ryan and Jack probably stop, and Michael’s not okay with that. Something so intensely hot doesn’t deserve to be stopped.

Ryan’s not sucking dick as much as he’s engulfing it. If his face was any deeper in Jack’s lap it would be pushing through skin and muscle and rubbing on bone. Michael’s appreciated Ryan’s ability to deepthroat more times than he can count, but this is different. He’s not bobbing, not sliding along the whole length of Jack’s cock before bottoming out. Ryan’s nearly still.

It takes Michael a second before he realises that Jack’s holding Ryan still. Jack’s big hands are weaved through Ryan’s hair, fingers and palms curved around his scalp. There’s no way of knowing the pressure Jack’s exerting but Michael can guess. He can imagine it; being curled up on the foot of a bed, Jack or one of his boyfriends sprawled out above him. He’d put as much cock in his mouth as he could and they’d just keep him there, not let him move. If he’d try, they’d push him back down until his eyes watered. Probably not Gavin, he doesn’t have the patience for that kind of thing. Ryan could do it for sure though. Maybe Ray. He seems pretty open to new things so far. 

But it’s not just a cock Ryan has in him. The way he’s kneeling with his legs spread to brace his body makes the purple bulb anchored outside of him obvious. Michael wonders if it’s charmed. It probably is. It probably vibrates, or swells and contracts, or flares with warmth before cooling. Jack’s a master who’s proud of his skillset. Unlike Gavin he’s seemed willing to talk about it, not that Michael’s asked much. It’s a lot more likely that he uses magic in bed than that he doesn’t.

Watching them is too much. The trade of power is devastatingly sexy. It’s not one way. It should be, but it isn’t. Jack’s not just doing what he wants to Ryan. Ryan’s driving Jack insane. Michael can see it in the tension in his arms, in the way he’s biting his lip. The scene he can half see is completely fucking radiating with power, on both sides. If this is what sex is like between them, no wonder Ryan’s been keeping it to himself. This isn’t the kind of sex Michael or Gavin could provide in a million years. They’re kinky and occasionally rough and always bantery and sometimes sweet. They’re not two sheets of steel vibrating into each other.

Michael needs to not be a voyeur. This is Ryan’s, not his. Ryan and Gavin -and Ray, now- are allowed to have their own things, and this is not Michael’s to share. He has to stop watching, but he’s not sure if he can. If he goes to channel surf in the living room or unpack his stuff in the second bedroom there’s no question that he’ll end up back in the hallway. Watching their strength, listening to every sound they let loose. The best solution is to just get out. He needs to leave before he’s dropping to his knees and crawling into the room. Physical distance is the only thing that can save him now. And Gavin wants to be visited anyway, so there’s some great justification there.

Michael carefully tip-toes away from the door until he’s far enough that a creak won’t gather attention, then he books it to the front door. On a magnetic panel beside the door there are about a dozen keys, a few on keychains, most not. It’s a charm Jack explained last night, that no matter where you put keys down in the house they’ll appear on the magnet board. Michael grabs his keychain so he can get into Morrison Tower and shoves it down into his pocket. It doesn’t feel like it wants to immediately float out of his jeans. If Michael was more science-minded he could stand here and time it, see how long of a grace period the charm gives before deciding the person has changed their mind about leaving and reclaims the key. He could also just ask Jack. The big guy would probably tell him straight up.

Michael hesitates for a second, then grabs Ryan’s keys too. Fuck it. He’ll drive. Why not? He does have a license.

Parallel parking is a bitch, but Michael gets it done. Then it’s an eons too long wait for the elevator. Gavin’s floor doesn’t seem any different in the light of day, except maybe being warmer. 

Michael’s knocked twice and still has his fist up for a third when the door swings away from him. Gavin flashes a big dumb grin at him. “It was open boi, I knew you were coming over!”

“I don’t just open people’s doors. That’s weird.”

“No it isn’t. What’s weird-” Gavin keeps protesting, but Michael tunes his boi out as he takes a good look around the living room. Geoff’s not there, and he’s not making kitchen noises either. He might be home, but he’s not in direct line of sight, and at this point it’ll have to do.

“Let’s fuck.”

“Wait. There’s a few things we have to talk about.”

“Oh my god Gavin not the time.” Michael isn’t sure there’s anything in the world he wants less right now than to derail banging Gav with serious conversation. 

“But what-”

Michael grinds himself on Gavin, leg half curled around his boi’s hip. “I really, really want to fuck you. Don’t you want that?”

“Yeah, but...” 

Gavin trails off as Michael sucks a hickey into his neck above his necklace. There are matching bite marks under his t-shirt. Michael maybe couldn’t map them, the earlier part of Sunday was a blur of sex, not a pristine accounting like his brain sometimes has, but he remembers well enough putting them there. Keeping his face in the curve of Gavin’s neck Michael slips his hands under the hem and pushes his palms against Gav a little harder than is strictly necessary. When he hits a day old bruise they’ll both know about it.

“Jesus christ Michael.”

Michael knows he’s gotten to him. The heaviness of Gavin’s accent is proof. Michael brutally uses his boi’s growing desire against him and starts to walk them towards the couch, knowing Gav won’t protest. Whatever Gavin had to say can wait until their dicks are a bit less hard.

“So if you want me to pound you until your legs give out and I want to split you on my dick, what’s the problem?”

“That- that is a compelling argument.” Gav can only stutter out words like a mong for so long though, before he turns it around. “Had a not quite wet enough dream, did you?”

“Shut up Gavin.” It doesn’t count as dirty talk if it comes out half condescending. At least not in Michael’s book. Some people get off on humiliation, and being talked down to, but those people are fucked up.

Being tumbled onto his back on the couch distracts Gav not one whit. “Because if you had oysters for breakfast or something else we can control, that’s good to know for the future.”

“Not controllable. Jack was getting laid, I accidentally saw it. Now shut up and take your jeans off.”

“Someone hot?”

“I think so.” Michael rolls his eyes. “It was Ryan.” Gavin’s not working fast enough for Michael’s purposes. There’s really no other choice but to get hands on. Michael tilts Gavin’s hips up to get the material trapped between his sweet ass and the cushion down his thighs.

“So basically you want to fuck because Ryan and Jack were.”

“Does that offend your delicate sensibilities, Gavvers?” Michael snaps. He gets that they’ve have issues in the last week with assumed sluttery, but now Gavin knows all of that’s not true, so really it’s only Ray and now Jack, and Gavin would be a huge hypocrite since they’re dating Ray together and Gavin’s done Jack.

“Don’t be a muppet. I just think you should be honest.”

“I am being.” He’s got his jeans and boxers stripped off and he’s sitting straddled on Gavin’s hard cock. There’s only one layer of cloth between some third base intercrural shenanigans. Michael’s pretty sure that counts as being honest about what turns him on.

“Not totally. Tell me what you want.”

“What I really really want?” Michael falsettos. Gavin doesn’t go for it, doesn’t say anything about zig-a-zag-ah’ing.

“You want Geoff.”

Oh, what the _fuck_. Michael’s dick deflates to half mast almost instantly, and he stops his slow rock back and forth on Gavin’s confined erection. There is no part of Gavin forcing a _what are your intentions towards my master, and my magical world_ talk on him mid-goddamn-coitus that is sexy. What kind of asshole can’t wait until after sex to have this conversation? Christ, he dates complete fuckheads.

“No. The hex made me. Jack figured that out, remember?”

“Technically yes. But you didn’t even consider it a thing ‘til then. Why? Because you can actually imagine yourself kissing him.”

“What do you want me to say? I don’t know what the fuck you want me to say. Did I, in the spirit of getting my ass chewed by another anti-gay letter, kiss a hot guy who happened to be standing next to me? Yes. You know I fucking did. I told you yesterday. Ryan told you when it happened. I’m sure Geoff told you shit too. Like, you know, how he _didn’t reciprocate_.”

“Geoff has some really specific rules when it comes to sex, of which kissing is a part of. It wasn’t-”

“That he’s in a pretty serious relationship with his journeyman?”

“Yeah we are.” Gavin shrugs. “That doesn’t mean you can’t think each other are hot. You know he’s gay, right? Not bi like you and Ryan. Proper gay.”

“Yeah, he told me this story about getting beat up by a cop at Pride.” Basically the only thing Geoff did say to him, aside from telling him to throw his mother’s letter in the garbage. Which, shit, looks like he’ll be bussing here tomorrow too, to check his mailbox. It’s not like Michael can write back and tell her to mail her well intentioned hate to Jack’s house.

“Which time?”

Michael recoils a bit. “Which time? Like more than once?”

“His story, not mine. Ask him about it. Talk to him. Get all cozy.” Gavin somehow manages to roll his O, which Michael didn’t even know was possible.

“You seemed pretty against it before. Against me getting anywhere near your precious master. Shit, last week I didn’t even know if Geoff was old, or white, or ugly.”

“Michael, do you really want to hear the whole sob story?”

“I don’t know. Do I?”

“It’s not exactly sexy,” Gavin says.

“I’m not exactly in the mood anymore.” Second time in three days Michael’s been cockblocked by life. Sooner or later his plumbing’s going to break.

“Might as well put your pants back on.” 

It pains Michael in his soul, but Gavin’s right. If they’re going to actually have this talk right now, there’s no point in sexy straddling. He gets off his boi and gets redressed before throwing himself onto the couch. He stretches out his legs to put his feet on Gavin’s leg for good measure.

“So this is the first time I’m talking about this with someone who’s not a magician. So I might muff it up. You gotta tell me if it doesn’t make sense.”

“Go for it.” It’s not like Michael’s not used to interpreting Gavin on a daily basis already. ‘Sob story’ implies drama and feelings, which isn’t Michael’s strong suit, but it’ll be worth it to finally learn why Gavin tried so hard to keep Geoff away from him and Ryan for more than two years.

“So in England, I had this friend. A best friend. Not an only friend, I wasn’t that much of a sadsack, but I wasn’t exactly top choice. A lot of people didn’t want to be friends with me because I’m magic. The horror movies and the news talk about why my sort are dangerous all the time, and an eight year old isn’t in that rebellious ‘I don’t care what society says I do what I want’ place yet. But Dan liked me. Dan wasn’t magical, and Dan was great.”

“I’m glad you had someone who wasn’t scared of some Syfy channel bullshit,” Michael says. He rubs the heel of his foot against Gavin’s thigh for comfort, half dragging off his sock in the process.

“It was more than that. Being an apprentice, it’s all about thought experiments. Like, here is a potential charm or spell, think this out to all possible conclusions, you will be surprise graded on some of them and informed how much you missed and exactly how many ways you’ve doomed the universe.”

“How do you surprise grade something? If you have to write an essay you know you’re getting marked on it.”

Gavin scowls. “Did I say essay? How about a random woman walking up to you in the market when you’re arguing with your brother about what cookies to get, you have to share so you have to pick together, and then she asks you about that question your latest letter had, and you have to say everything you thought out and she tells you how you missed the drought that would happen and kill a half of the world’s population and your brother is two years older than you but he cries because if you actually had the ability to cast the charm you thought of everyone would be dead?”

“Goddamn, dude.”

“Meh. It’s whatever. I get it now. Magicians have to think on their feet. You have to be able to follow multiple lines of consequence under duress. My point-”

Michael’s not done yet, though. “No, seriously. What the fuck? I thought magic was about finding loopholes, not about traumatising kids. Apprentices are from six to fifteen, right? How old were you when this bitch accosted you?”

“Nine. It’s not always six. It’s not like it just clicks on your birthday. It’s whenever an adult paying attention notices you can make shit happen. Sometimes that’s toddler, sometimes it’s double digits.”

“You were in third grade and some douchebag did that to you?” Michael’s filled with fury for his boi, utterly impotent because it’s not like he can time travel to break the skulls of every master in England. Meanwhile Gavin’s just sitting there, flicking the empty toe of Michael’s sock. How can he be so fucking calm about it?

“Relax, Michael. It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t the first time, and it was hardly the last. It’s important that apprentices train their brains. ‘Cause loopholes is the base of it, yeah, but sometimes the sneaky path you think you’ve found just hasn’t been covered because it’s moronically dangerous to go that way. If you can’t think, and just take the first loophole you spot, well...”

“Okay. I get it. Traumatising kids is important in your line of work.” It’s total bullshit, in Michael’s opinion, but Gavin seems pretty firm with his opinion. Maybe he’ll go and bitch to Jack about it later. At least the big guy gave way with his admission about apprentice collars.

“Anyway, my point is Dan _liked_ the thought experiment stuff. He thought it was fun to read my letters and brainstorm with me. We’d do it together, mostly, if we could hang out after school. But then I was so busy thinking about that all that I wasn’t thinking about what would happen when I wasn’t an apprentice anymore.

“Then a few masters come and talk to my family, and tell them it’s time to let their little Gavin go. He needs to go to Texas, he can come back to England in fiveish years, depending on how long it takes for his master to develop him. But it’s okay, he won’t be lonely or homesick, because his master is going to be the best possible match he could ever have. This man is going to be _perfection_ for him.

“And yeah I’m gonna miss my parents, but it’s a lot worse than that. Because that’s when I realise that bollocks, experiencing magic means that I can lose the important non-magic people in my life. Involving Dan in my homework thought experiments didn’t get Dan anything, in the end. The entire system is built to make sure that the magician doesn’t rely too heavily on the non-magic. Except for I want to, bugger it all.”

Musical as he is, Queen’s I Want It All has just been triggered in Michael’s brain. But considering he’s not a complete flaming asshole, he’s not going to bust out a lyric or two.

“So I figured I’ll have the magic life and the other life. I can have everything I want, I just have to compartmentalise.”

“Really?” It’s not half as supportive as he meant to be, but fuckin’ _really_? That’s what the last two and a half years of evasion have been about? Gavin wanting everything?

“It works for spies and CIA and stuff!”

“Our lives aren’t a goddamn movie Gavin!”

“What are you on about?” Gavin frowns with confusion. “I didn’t say they were.”

“Shut up and tell me about your damn compartmentalisation.” Fucking Christ.

“So I piss off to Texas, and it’s perfect. Magic and all these things I’m suddenly being allowed to do when I could only read about it before, and Geoff makes me laugh and he’s hot as hell. It’s all perfect. Except then I meet you and Ryan. And you’re fantastic too. And the only way I can have both is if I make sure that Geoff is the pinnacle of my magical experience, and you two get everything else.”

“Why,” bursts out of Michael’s throat, half a question, half a strangled shout. “That doesn’t make sense!”

“I told you. Dan. Mashing up everything doesn’t work. I’ve got proof. But doing it the other way, it’s harder than you think. But you’ve got to, because when two soap bubble worlds touch, they both break.”

“And that’s why you freaked out at Ray’s? Just because we met?”

Gavin makes a face. Normally that face would come side by side with Gavin chucking something at him, but none of the throw pillows go flying. They’re probably still too deep into Serious Mode for hurling projectiles, Michael would guess. “Don’t say ‘just because’. You broke my entire life system, you wanker.”

“Look. On one hand you’re an idiot, and that’s baboon logic. On the other, I think you’ve figured out for yourself that doesn’t work, considering you’re half throwing me at your master.” 

“It’s not like I don’t know he’s hot as all bloody get out. The soap bubbles burst, it’s too late to fix things, might as well get what you can from the freakin’ wreckage. If that includes your hand on Geoff’s ass, well...”

“Well, I’m not going to ask to see his dick, because that’s insane. But I’m happy you don’t want to break up with me because I kissed your master.”

“Twice,” Gavin reminds him.

“Yeah, that.”

“We’re Team Dynamite, Michael. You’re my boi.”

“Damn straight.” 

The arch of Michael’s foot makes a great surface for rubbing the curve of Gavin’s leg. He’s not in the mood for fucking any more, not with an overload of information this big sitting on his shoulders. It’s the most he’s heard about England in one go since the beginning of their dating, when he and Ryan were still asking dumb questions like what’s bangers and mash and how much Monty Python can you quote. Being too preoccupied for sex doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy the affectionate shit. He’s always been pretty hands on.

He’s still doing it when they get their next surprise. This one isn’t a sudden blurting of secrets. Apparently others don’t have the same feeling Michael does about just strolling into someone’s apartment because the only warning they get that someone’s going to enter is the light clicking of the door knob twisting. 

It’s Jack, and he looks pretty satisfied. There’s a curve to his lip that Michael hasn’t seen before. Not even when he caved and told Jack that yeah, he’d move in. According to Jack that was prompted by humanitarian disgrace though, and it’s hard to feel satisfied when you’re only just salving guilt. “Yeah, I figured. Ryan’s checking your apartment, he’ll be down in a second.”

“You’ve known me one day and you’re already figuring shit about me?”

“Well, no offense but you don’t exactly have a lot of places to go. So unless you were driving around aimlessly, yeah, I figured,” Jack affirms, settling into the lemon yellow armchair directly across from them.

It’s momentarily quiet. What's Michael supposed to say, ‘you did such a good job of making Ryan take your cock that I tried to mount Gavin’? That doesn’t really stick to the platonic ideal Jack mentioned in the wee hours of the morning. Bottom line is Jack’s just as off limits as Geoff is. Even if the fantasy sounded good, enough so to propel Michael to his most available boyfriend, the reality of the situation is Jack is currently providing for him. There’s nothing Michael wants less than a sugar daddy relationship. Depending on someone to solve all your problems? Michael can’t even depend on Gavin and they love each other. A sex-for-caring transactional relationship would be much less stable.

Luckily the silence is broken before it gets too awkward. Ryan bursts into the apartment and points an accusing finger at Michael. “You took my car, you dick clot.”

Michael giggles a little maniacally, because yes he did.

“What the fuck is this, GTA?”

“No, because I didn’t pull you out and curb stomp you. You were distracted. It was an easy steal, not hijacking.”

“We should go steal Ray. I have this feeling...” Gavin trails off and Michael elbows him before he can get caught in his own thoughts, thank you stupid magic for that quirk. At least it make sense now though.

“FYI?” Ryan says, volume on the brink of shouting. “Auto theft is still auto theft if the car is parked.”

Michael can’t really combat the pure fact of that statement, so he moves on. “What were you even doing there? Besides the obvious.”

“Gavin told me you’d moved in the middle of the night. I came over to hang out for a bit before driving you to work. One tiny bit less stress for what’s been a shitty week. But I’ve seen Jack around, so when you were sleeping we- Look. I’m sorry you walked in on it but it was a no-numbers-collected fuck, just like any other. It’s never bothered you before.”

Michael is so goddamn tempted to say _I’m not mad about what you think I am_. Jack and Gavin are both here and it would give his mingy little soul release. But he doesn’t, because he’s not that much of an asshole.

“I’m not bothered. I just had reason to steal your car, so fuck off.”

“From what I’ve heard, you forgot to close the door when you came in. Unless it was on purpose.”

“Shut up Gavin,” Ryan fires off. 

“Maybe you did it to prove there was enough to go around?” Gavin continues on blithely.

Michael can barely hold back his wince. This is pretty much exactly what he’s tried to avoid from day one, and why he had to tell Lindsay no. Gavin’s supposed to have Geoff, Ryan’s supposed to have strangers on campus. They’re not supposed to share someone that Michael knows and can’t have a part of. It’s not fair, like this. It sucks.

One thing that the years have taught Michael is that the best way to deal with an unfair situation is to ignore it for as long as possible, if getting angry isn’t an option. And what better way to ignore it than leaving Ryan and Jack to watch Maury while he steals his boi and another vehicle? “We’re borrowing your car again.”

“The hell you are!” Ryan replies.

“Except for how we are,” Michael volleys.

Then, impulsively and idiotically, he grabs Ryan’s keys off the table with one hand, Gavin in the other, and fucking bolts. He doesn’t even take the time to shut the door, just runs. Gavin stumbles along behind him like an inner tube tied to a Jetski. Michael keeps his grip tight on both the sharp triangles of metal and on hairy wrist. Dropping the keys would be a disaster straight out of a horror movie; going back for them would get him caught and his ass murdered. Letting go of Gavin wouldn’t be much better, Gav wouldn’t run fast enough.

Ryan’s close behind them until they get to the stairs. They pull away there. Ryan’s not willing to take the flight in leaping three stair steps like Michael is, like Gavin’s being forced to. What does Michael care if he sprains an ankle? It’ll fuck Ryan up though.

“Oh fuck you guys,” is the last thing Michael hears before they exit the lobby. It echoes like Ryan is still halfway up the stairs. 

A part of Michael wants to feel guilty. They’re definitely at an unfair advantage. Gavin might hurt himself fifty times over on crutches, but he wouldn’t fail all his practical assignments. Michael smothers the moral part of himself ruthlessly. Yeah Ryan apologised yesterday but that doesn’t mean Michael doesn’t owe him a bit of shit. And it’s not like he’s going to crash the friggin’ thing. He’s just borrowing it.

Unlike his first drive of the day, this time Michael takes a minute to do the shit you’re supposed to do. Adjust the rear view mirror. Adjust the side mirror. Turn the air conditioning on and idle while waiting for the blowing air to actually cool. Fiddle with the radio once he realises Ryan’s CD booklet is in the mess of the back, and it’s not worth it for a few songs.

“Michael, Michael, what’s happening?” Gavin shouts giddily. “Are we making a break for Mexico? Starting a life of crime?”

“Sure, Team Dynamite can be the next famous bank robbing duo.” Michael takes his hand off the wheel -ten and two- and shoves Gavin into the passenger window. “Idiot. We’re getting Ray, since you have some crazy idea. I’m being supportive of your journeyman bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit, it’s just thinking about every possible outcome to every possible variant. Like if you were going to spell someone with arthritis so their knees didn’t hurt. First you have to figure out if legs know they’re legs, cos-”

Michael flashes his palm at Gav. “Nope. Stop. Don’t want to have a theory question that starts with do legs know they’re legs. The pain of that conversation is not remotely worth it.” 

Not to mention that even if Michael does suffer through it, there’s low likelihood that he’ll come away knowing anything more. He’s not a magician. Their brains are wired differently, and that neither starts nor ends with hypotheticals. That 1960’s propaganda movie Magician Madness is mostly horse shit, but it did have a point. Half the hippies were wrecking themselves trying to get their minds to fit the mold of a magician and break through the fugue state. Dangerous shit. But they couldn’t back then and Michael can’t now and Dan wouldn’t have been able to either, and that’s just the end of it. The soap bubble thing was stupid and caused a lot of unnecessary wariness, but it’s not like Gavin was a hundred percent wrong. There are some barriers that can’t be crossed.

Michael pulls into the Juno Bailey parking lot in a matter of minutes. It’s a much shorter ride driving than when he’s on the bus. He puts the car into neutral and waits for Gavin to get out. 

“Aren’t you going to park?”

Michael doesn’t really want to remind the dumbass he’s suspended and therefore banned from school grounds. Best case scenario he gets called a handful of names. Worst case Gavin accosts the principal or the guidance counsellor and tells Michael’s tale of woe and demands he be reinstated. Unless worst case is the words prompting Gavin to start mentally compiling a revenge hex against the original hexer. On the other hand, it’s bad enough that Michael’s in the parking lot, completely visible from the teachers’ private smoking alcove. Going inside violates the terms of his suspension, and takes him a step closer to actual expulsion. Just because he can’t afford university doesn’t mean Michael’s okay with being a high school drop out. He’s gotta say something, at least.

“I can’t actually go inside. You need to get him.”

“Fine,” Gavin replies, already hopping out of the car. “But park anyway, don’t waste his gas.”

As Gavin starts to take longer than he should, Michael starts to worry. What if Gavin got caught and sent to class? How long is he supposed to wait before leaving? And how pissed is Ryan going to be if he comes back without anything to show for his shenanigans, because Michael’s betting on pretty pissed, and he was counting on multiple boyfriends to deflect the blame and distract from irritation.

“Where the fuck were you?” Michael has no problem getting out of the drivers seat and shouting across the lot when he finally sees Gavin and Ray exiting the school. It’s five minutes into fifth period, no one’s loitering around. To be honest he’d probably shout anyway, because what the _fuck_ Gavin.

“Class, dur.” Ray yells back.

“You realise we never actually asked him for his schedule right? I had to search for him and all I knew was he has textiles with you.” Gavin’s volume lowers as he gets closer, until he’s at normal indoor voice level.

“Speaking of... So, just so you know, Jenna Martin flipped out in textiles when she noticed you were gone and the teach said you weren’t gonna be back for a week. Unlike me, who was flipping out because I was pining for my one true love. My one-third true love? How does the math on this thing work? Do I get three hundred percent, or the normal hundred?”

Gavin’s laughing, draped over Ray’s shoulder like it’s a countertop. Michael can’t help himself. He leans in for a quick kiss from them both before throwing open the back seat door. He can chauffeur like nobody’s fuckin’ business.

“Seriously though, I thought she was gonna look up a recipe for Molotov Cocktails on her phone right there,” Ray continues as he gets in the car.

Once Gavin’s climbed over Ray instead of walking around the car, like a complete idiot, Michael can say what he thinks and have Ray actually pay attention. Not that he blames the guy for split attention. With hands and elbows and butts everywhere, Gavvers is distracting as fuck. “Hopefully everyone will get over it before next week.”

“You don’t want people crusading for you?”

Gavin snorts before answering for him. “He hates people sticking up for him.”

“I’ll make a mental note to never defend your honor then.”

“Oh fuck off,” Michael tells the both of them. “It’s not like I’m some bitch martyr who gets off on being crucified. It’s just Gavin and Ryan have a history of being overprotective, and I obviously don’t need it.”

“He’s talking about his jebby jebpiece of a mother sending him a _God hates that you’re gay letter_ every week since he moved out, and me and Ryan hating it. And he still bloody opens them!”

“There’s no reason not to open them. It’s not like she’s going to convert me.” Michael’s in traffic now, he can’t turn around to scowl at his boi, but there’s no way Gavin doesn’t know. They’ve had this conversation way too often already.

“You bloody dunce! There are a million reasons to not open them. They made you sad!”

“He makes a good point,” Ray chimes in. “Sadness does suck balls.”

“Gavin’s stupid self-flagellation about the results of convincing me to come out nearly broke us up. So pardon the fuck out of me if I hate other people taking responsibility for my problems.” Okay, so maybe it’s not always true. Sometimes he wishes he had a safety net. But better for Ray to do it on occasion and think he’s overstepping than thinking he’s got free rein to coddle.

“And counterpoint! So not to change the subject, but to blatantly change the subject, we’re skipping because Gavin had a premonition?”

Gavin takes to the gentle teasing with ease. “I said feeling, not premonition and yeah, I do. Also, technically, _you’re_ skipping. I have a note.”

“At least two teachers saw you, no one’s going to believe you have the plague.”

“They will if Geoff’s saying it,” Gavin says with confidence. He’s always had it about his master, and now that Michael’s met the man, he gets it. Geoff’s not the kind of guy to ever let someone down, he bets. Even if that involves lying his ass off about the wellbeing of his journeyman.

***

In the time that they’ve been away, some shit has gone down. 

The very first thing Michael notices, literally the moment he walks through the _still_ not locked door, is that there’s a video game being played. Michael doesn’t recognise the music right away, but it’s very audibly _something_ gamey. 

The second thing that’s immediately obvious, at least once Michael looks over at the tv to see what game it is, is that Ryan and Jack have been joined by Geoff. Jack’s still in the obnoxiously yellow armchair he was in before. Ryan has gone from upright and pacing to comfortable on one side of the couch. Geoff’s on the other. 

It should be awkward as fuck. It really, really should. Geoff and Jack have been together forever, or at least Michael assumes. For as long as Gavin’s been in Texas, for sure. Geoff might be okay with Jack and Ryan being repeated one night stand buddies, but there’s no way he signed up to join in on their prolonged walk of shame. Add to that that everyone in the room has a different claim to Gavin, that Ryan knows Michael has a idiotic crush on Geoff- there are too many dynamics in one room.

“Hey Geoff,” Gavin calls out happily, like he’s completely blind to how the man’s presence makes everything more cringeworthy. How a journeyman can be so moronic, Michael doesn’t know. Michael only holds back from kicking Gav in revenge because Geoff’s twisting in his seat to look at them and what could get worse about this potential disaster is these guys knowing he’s on guard.

“Hey buddy. Didn’t take long to recruit your new guy to a life of truancy, I see.”

Ray shrugs. “What can I say? Addicted to the thug life, baby.”

Geoff’s laughter is nearly a bark snapping out of his throat. Evidently he doesn’t think much of Ray’s self-proclaimed badassness.

“Do you want a snack, Michael?”

“What? No. I had breakfast like a hour and a half ago.”

Gavin frowns. “But lost time, and such.”

Michael rolls his eyes. Less than twelve hours and Gavin’s already forgotten his promise to not tell Ryan about the starvation. Not that that was explicit, but still. Christ. Of course the real question is why didn’t Michael see that coming. Gavin’s Gavin, after all. 

“Fine. Whatever.” It’s not like he couldn’t eat, even if he’s not actually hungry. Besides, escaping to the kitchen means a few more minutes to eavesdrop and try to figure out what the mood is.

Michael only realises his mistake when he and Ray and Gavin leave the kitchen five minutes later, cereal in hand. Different brands, of course. His toothpaste is at Jack’s, and none of them like the idea of being forced into what’s normally happily voluntary. Gavin filled the bowls within millimetres of their rims, and Michael has no doubt his boi will continue attempt to overfeed him for weeks to come. As much as Michael likes his Cinnamon Toast Crunch, only slow precise steps have gotten him as far as the living room without having a sloshing incident. There’s no way all three of them can make it to Gavin’s bedroom without spilling. It’s also weird as fuck to stand in the middle of the room eating through bowls nearly wrist deep. Thanks to Gavin’s well intentioned coddling, they have to sit. 

Problem being there are only two seats left. There’s the second arm chair and the middle cushion between Ryan and Geoff. Any position is a statement, for himself or for Gavin or Ray. Michael’s not ready for this. Fuck it, maybe they should all just sit on the floor. At least this time no one’s looking at him. The older guys are playing Smash Bros. and chatting between declarations of revenge and flat out name calling. There’s no time for any of them to look away from the wide screen.

Gavin breaks the stalemate. Except rather than pick an empty spot, he sits on Jack’s armrest then sort of folds himself in. There has to be a charm involved because by the time Gavin’s butt hits cushion the chair has expanded to fit them both comfortably. And he doesn’t spill any of his bowl, which is a fucking miracle, as far as Michael is concerned.

“Woah, how’d you do that?” Ray questions. Even as he asks he’s nudging Michael towards the other armchair. Unsurprisingly it turns out to have the same ability to widen as needed.

“It’s a charm that Geoff did.”

“Well duh. But how?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Geoff starts, hands never moving from his controller. “First you take-”

Michael knows that Geoff’s done explaining because he’s smirking a little and his concentration is fully back on the game. Which only has seventeen seconds left, while it had two minutes before. Clearly Geoff went into technical specs of the charm and half the room’s brains glazed over. And then there’s Jack, who is now on the defense as Ryan tries to make up lost ground in the final seconds of the bout, and Gavin. Gavin is scowling so hard he looks like he’s grown extra eyebrow just for the occasion. 

“Was that bloody necessary?”

“He asked,” Geoff replies dismissively. 

“But obviously-”

“No, it’s fine. I did ask.” Ray agrees. “Huh. I’ve never had magicians fugue before, just seen it on tv.”

“You’re not going to have it _again_ because Geoff’s going to not be a _butt lucking assmonger_ anymore.”

“I regret nothing,” Geoff tells him saltily. “It was my shotgun test. You can’t date people who’d be terrified of magic. Jack too.”

Jack nods at his old friend. “Thanks, asshole. Except I already knew because I met Ryan through him trying to figure out how much he could learn through layman’s terms. Don’t do favours for people that don’t ask.” 

Michael hears the word hypocrite in Geoff’s sudden coughing jag. No doubt everyone else in the room does too. The multi-syllabic word is pretty clear.

“Excuse me?”

“What? I was just coughing.”

“Fuck you, fucker,” Jack replies to the blisteringly innocent expression on Geoff’s face. It’s so overdone Michael’s surprised he’s not holding clasped palms to his cheek and rapidly blinking.

Michael’s got no idea how tense it can get between Geoff and Jack. It’s not like he’s seen either of them furious in the accumulated few hours he’s known them. It’s probably not too terrible, Gavin doesn’t seem concerned at all. Still, part of him is relieved when Ryan pulls the conversation back onto safer shores.

“I didn’t lose that game. There was major interference, and that doesn’t count.”

Jack answers immediately. “Hey, I tried to avoid going after you when you were zoned out. Not our fault the NPC is vicious.”

“Clearly the solution is to make one of us the NPC. Obviously,” Ray says. Michael shows his hearty agreeal by loudly slurping a spoonful of milk.

“Obviously,” Geoff mimics.

“Obviously,” Ray repeats, not showing a single ruffled feather.

“That’s still only four for six though,” Ryan points out. 

“So each round the two losers have to switch off controllers. It’ll cycle through, everyone will play. Meanwhile the watchers will eat a pound of cereal at two in the afternoon. As you do.”

“Oh yeah?” 

Geoff shrugs. “Not demanding you eat my food. But I’m gonna. Since Gavin’s tastewormed the hell out of me for Rice Krisipies and bananas, I think it’s the best option.”

“No one can have Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Michael dibsed it.”

“Oh right, you don’t have your-”

Michael cuts Jack off. “It’ll be fine. I mean, it’s not like it’s going to make me dive out of a moving vehicle to tackle a fellow eater on the sidewalk. The compulsion’s not that hardcore, I don’t think. The cafeteria incident didn’t put me in peril.”

“Besides, you know, Timothy.” Gavin gestures to Michael’s face.

“Come on. Breakfast at tea time and all the Waluigi a man could want. It’ll be fun,” Geoff wheedles. To whom, Michael doesn’t know. He’s down, and he’s pretty sure everyone else was already.

For the next hour it goes exactly like that. Well, besides the switching out prediction. Ray’s too good and Jack’s pretty consistently bad. But the cereal part is true, a lesser man’s kitchen would be empty of bowls by the time they’re resettled. And there’s at least an attempt at turns, so that’s technically true. The forecast of fun is definitely true. Contrary to Michael’s earlier worry, it’s not awkward at all. It’s not the fierce competition that makes things less awkward, though it’s true there’s no time to feel weird when you’re focused on slaughtering your enemies as many times as you can. It’s that there just isn’t any drama. Hell, there’s even some PDA.

Gavin migrates as he finishes eating, shifting closer to Jack every few minutes. He ends up more than two thirds on the bigger guy’s lap. Eventually Michael looks over and sees Jack’s arm curled around Gavin’s waist. A bit to stabilise him, probably, like a hairy muscled seat belt. Mostly so Jack can still hold a controller in two hands. Still, Michael can’t deny the affection in the position. You don’t hold someone like that if you don’t care about them.

Michael makes his own move too. A little less horizontal creeping, a little more vertical pouncing. But hey, a boy’s gotta do what a boy’s gotta do. Ray has the unfair advantage of being spectacular at all video games. If a hand on the balls or a kiss on the neck distracts him and makes his Bowser fall off the podium, well, Michael can be proud of his skill set overcoming Ray’s.

Shit, it’s not even restricted to established couplings. Michael doesn’t really see when it happens, but at some point he looks up and Geoff and Ryan are sitting beside each other, rather than separated by a cushion. It could be innocent, something like Ryan wanting to be close enough to elbow his foe in the ribs. Michael knows it’s not. He knows Ryan as much as Ryan knows him. Despite the entirely G rated nature of sitting side by side, Michael knows what he’s seeing. They’ll end up fucking at some point. Maybe not tonight. And maybe Michael will never find out about it, because that’s how the outside their trio -quad, now- hookups work. But it’s gonna happen, unless Geoff is violently opposed, and Michael has to guess he’s not, considering he didn’t shove Ryan back over.

The round ends - Gavin vs Ray vs Ryan vs Geoff- and Gavin hands his controller to Jack as Ryan tosses his across the room. Michael catches it easily, and prepares for the pre-battle skirmish of getting the character he wants. Meta Knight is just badass, and he will cut anyone who tries to take him first.

Except Geoff doesn’t push them to the character screen. He’s got controller one, and he’s not doing his job. Michael’s just about to comment when Geoff puts his controller down on his lap.

“We’re all thinking the same thing. The question just is who’s the one to say it.”

Michael’s pretty sure he’s not thinking anything. Not even something basic like _maybe we should switch games_ , or _how much longer before I have to work_. He’s just been keyed into the crude banter and the moderate amount of strategy that goes into trying to win a bout and the way he can make Ray squirm if he touches him the right way.

Gavin on the other hand staggers up from the armchair, hand momentarily jamming into Jack for leverage. It’s interesting that the chair doesn’t spring back to original size immediately. Not that Michael can question why, that much has already been proven today. “Me! I’ve got it!” He pauses to make sure he has everyone’s attention, then speaks again. “Let’s do it then.”

Michael waits for clarification of what task exactly Gavin intends. The double meaning hits him after a second, but no way. Gavin’s ‘done it’ with all of them, but saying that in this context is weird. It’s not like he’s so horny he’ll just go with whoever raises their hand first. And why would Gav think that has anything to do with Geoff’s equally incomprehensible statement?

After a moment of silence in which Gavin completely fucking fails to expand on his statement, Ryan kicks out and prods Gavin with his pointed toes. “Good job. No one has any idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“He’s saying we should date,” Geoff explains. “Sometimes he just talks in wee little Gavin-talk.”

“Hey! I do not!” The amount of consonants Gavin drops in those few words absolutely proves Geoff’s point, but Michael doesn’t interrupt. “And, well _yeah_. There are so many connections between all of us. It’s just too complicated any other way. Trying to remember who you can do what with, when it’s okay to do whatever. It’s all rubbish. We should just date.”

Michael almost wants to laugh. He thought he understood yesterday the depth of fated perfection for Geoff and Gavin, master and journeyman. The snark and the solace and the magic, it was pretty clear. What he witnessed yesterday is nothing compared to now. Somehow they both wound up in the exact same mental place. They both have thought processes that led them to believe six people banging at once is the most obvious solution in the world. The grand poobah masters sure the fuck do have matching skills.

“You didn’t even say date. You said we should do it,” Ray replies.

Gavin tilts his head a little and shrugs. “I mean, doing it is a part of dating, innit? We’re not all wordsmiths, seems like getting to the pants off dance off bit would make the most sense. If anything bad happens _then_ we can talk.”

Jack raises his eyebrows and absently grooms his beard. “So according to you, what happens? Do we jump in head first? Six bodies in a bed?”

“Damn I have leveled the fuck up,” Ray whispers. Michael’s not sure if anyone else hears him, but sitting as close as he is to the Puerto Rican it’s impossible to miss.

“Or do we try the combos we haven’t done yet?”

“What’s even left?” Gavin asks.

“Easy for you to say, you’ve been with everyone,” Ryan points out. “And me with everyone but Geoff. Not everyone is that-”

“Loose?” Geoff suggests drily. “Look, I’m not saying I don’t want to go to fucktown. But that doesn’t have to be an orgy ten minutes from now. Gavin is terminally allergic to serious discussion. How the idiot should have started is that there are a few primary relationships and a few secondary relationships in this room. And then there’s a few gaping holes of people being left out. It would be a dickload better if everyone had some kind of relationship with everyone, sexual or not.”

It’s goddamned lunacy, is what it is. It’s also accurate. Michael’s had exactly two dates with Ray, three if today counts, and he already knows he doesn’t want to lose him. Gavin and Ryan are a given. He knows Jack is generous enough to offer help to someone he only knows from anecdotes, and Geoff can be unfathomably loyal. Plus they’re both hot. From that perspective everyone together is a great solution.

Ray blinks. “From two to five in a day. My love life has escalated quickly.” 

Michael subtly twists in the armchair to low five Ray, because he totally gets that reference. Tumblr memes are the best.

A second later their arms are both being crushed underneath a hundred-plus pounds as Gavin leaps from standing normally to fully sprawled on them. No warning, of course. Gavin doesn’t ever warn before he acts like a complete spaz. The armchair doesn’t get any wider to accommodate him. Either it needs butt-to-cushion to recognise the need to stretch, or there are limits on the charm.

“But you’d be okay with this?”

“Me or him? Because he just called it levelling up, so I think he’s okay with it,” Michael prompts. Ray’s so snug against him Michael can feel the way the air moves around Ray nodding his head.

Gavin blows air at him. “I’m sitting on _your_ lap, you munge. Would you be? No weirdness like you had with Lindsay?”

Michael can’t even remember telling Gavin about his date. Ryan must have. To be fair to his failure of disclosure though, Gavin was pretty pissed at him Thursday night and Friday during the day. “Nothing’s weird, we’re still friends.”

“It just didn’t work. At all.”

“It didn’t work because she didn’t like you or Ryan like that, in a sexually or romantically compatible way. Is there anyone in this room who wouldn’t bang or hold hands with someone else in the room?” Michael pauses for a second, to silence. “Well, great. Now forever hold your fuckin’ peace.”

“So is that it? A less than five minute talk and we’re all just dating?” Jack scoffs. Gavin’s in the way of Michael arching to look at the man, but if he had to he’d advise Lindsay to bet fifty bucks the man is still nervously grooming.

Ryan takes the question. “Well not yet. I don’t count this as a date, since it wasn’t stated upfront. I like transparency in my relationships, you know that. But I’m guessing the specs aren’t what you mean by the question. I’m guessing you mean ‘is it really this easy?’.”

“Good guess.”

“We’ve talked about this before, Jack. My boyfriends understand filling different urges with different people. I’m not really surprised that Gavin and Michael are into this. I don’t know Ray inside and out yet, but he’s been pretty open so far. And Geoff must be somewhat like Gavin, otherwise Gav would be in Finland or Canada or Montana right now. And what we all have in common is wanting different things, but liking each other. Can you really look around and think of a need you have that someone here couldn’t take care of?”

Michael can see where Ryan’s coming from. It’s not his perspective, but he’s known Ryan too long to not know how he thinks. Of course Ryan’s looking at this from the angle of what everyone in a larger relationship could give him. Ryan is a very needs based guy. It’s the core of him, really. Or, properly stated, it’s the core of every human being, but Ryan’s better than most at admitting that he’s inherently selfish. Most people want to believe they’re better than that. But it’s that self-knowledge that makes Michael doubt Ryan’s words. “So what are you saying? No more college girls?”

Ray chimes in, “a vagina _is_ a need that we couldn’t take care of.”

“Come on Michael, you know better. Bisexual orientation does not mean we’ll fall apart if not all genitals are on tap at all times.” Ryan is almost certainly rolling his eyes, but again, Gavin makes a better door than window.

Michael’s pretty sure he’s less bi than Ryan. Heterosex is always an afterthought for him. But that’s not his point anyway. “So no more university girls.”

“I’m not saying never, but if you all really want to do this, it’s like I said.”

“And this will make you happy,” Geoff asks. It’s pretty obvious the man’s asking Gavin, even without a name dropped. Who else’s emotional welfare is Geoff supposed to prioritise, besides Gav? 

“Well it’s not just about me, is it.” It’s the sort of thing Gavin can say because he’s confident enough underneath it all. Michael knows that, he’s sure Ryan and Geoff know that too. If that makes Gav a hypocrite, well what-the-fuck-ever. Whatever makes him secure.

“For me it kinda is, buddy.”

Gavin lounges back even further, so he can point to everyone without twisting his arm. Michael still almost gets a index finger up the nose. “Well starting tonight it’s about me and Ryan and Michael and Ray.”

“Pretty sure you left out Jack,” Ray points out helpfully.

“Nah. Jack and Geoff had a thing before I ever became a magic twinkle in Geoff’s eye.”

“Was that a sperm reference?”

“Should it not have been?”

Michael shoves a knee up into Gavin’s spine, firmly on Ray’s side. “Not when that’s a fucking _paternity_ joke, and you’ve had the guy’s dick up your ass for two years.”

“And if you make a daddy joke,” Geoff starts, saying the word with clear disgust, “I’ll throw wet bread at you.”

“Geoffrey, why?” Gavin wails after his retching has calmed down.

“Equal levels of squick, buddy, that’s why.”

Fairly sure about what time it is, Michael shoves Gavin off his lap so he can get up. Unfortunately for the second half of Team Dynamite, Ray’d been clasping his leg, and the abrupt movement has startled the guy into clamping down rather than letting go. As Michael’s standing up, Gavin’s pinned with his legs on Ray and his neck painfully bent into the area rug.

“So this has been a really interesting life changing proposal, but I have to leave for work now.” 

Or at least close enough to now that he might as well say it. Michael’s down, he really is, but it’s still probably better to break up the party now and let everyone react to the declared sixsome in their own ways. Hanging out in the wake of the change- Michael just can’t imagine that going well. An unsettled room can be the worst goddamn pressure there is. So what if he’s exiting a little earlier than necessary? If it makes everyone do the same and get some space his bullshit will have done some good. From what Michael knows, Ray will mull it over during the cutscenes of video games, Ryan will have sex with one of them, and Gavin won’t give it another thought because cavemen don’t worry about group sex.

“If you steal my car a third time they’ll never find your corpse.”

“No, two’s a good number for a day. But I do need a car involved in some way. My uniforms are at Jack’s now, and I don’t have enough time to bus there then to work.”

“You have to work?” Ray asks. He’s the only one who seemed surprised. Gavin and Ryan Michael gets but why aren’t Jack or Geoff? How much has Gavin freakin’ said?

“Michael always works,” Gavin says cheerfully. “Ryan always has class or rehearsal. It’s a bloody rule of the universe.”

“You bail on them literally every day to learn a new spell or charm,” Jack retorts instantly.

“I wasn’t complaining. I was _saying_.”

“I’ll drive you.”

Michael nods a thank you at Ryan. He was hoping he would. And with Ryan getting off the couch, the only things left are to say bye and get the fuck out. Michael carefully steps over Gavin’s sprawled body and turns to face Ray. Planting a hand on either armrest helps him be better balanced to bend over for a kiss. Ray’s careful too. He only cups the unbruised side of Michael’s face, considerate motherfucker that he is.

“See you soon,” Michael offers. It’s not like he can tell Ray to meet him after work, whether or not Ryan’s free. Ray’s got a curfew, not to mention parents who would wonder where he was in the morning.

“I can’t come to your work with homework, obviously, but maybe tomorrow?”

“I’ve got an absolutely top view of your taint from here,” Gavin comments, completely derailing Ray’s kind offer. Most of the room looks over at them, and Michael realises a bit belatedly that he hasn’t so much stepped over Gavin as straddled his face from above. 

“You wanna maybe stand up then?”

“Nah. You can give me a goodbye kiss down here.”

“Fuckin’ asshole,” Michael mutters, because it’s totally true. Then he gets on his hands and knees and kisses his boi, because truthfully the assholishness is one of his favourite qualities.

It’s when he stands up again that he’s not quite sure what to do. Does he make a move on the two older men, get in his toodle-loos there too? This is actually the situation he was hoping to avoid by leaving early. What if Jack and Geoff feel pressured because Ray and Gavin have? What if he says ‘you don’t have to’ and they take it to mean he’d rather they didn’t? What if-

“Third time for consent?” Geoff asks.

“Yeah,” Michael agrees. It’ll be good to have their first real one. 

It’s not as chaste as he thought it would be. Considering it’s their new beginning, he figured hands off, closed lips. First date stuff- at least by mainstream media standards, not the kind of first date that happens between three people in a restaurant bathroom. The assumption of gentleness couldn’t be further from the truth. Geoff’s holding him close; chest to chest, dick to dick, arms slung low across Michael’s back. And there’s tongue. It’s not a pandering kiss, it’s a kiss that alludes to a sexual future. Good. Michael really does have full interest in getting the man naked. Just not before they all get five minutes alone to think about it.

“I’ll see you tonight, Michael,” Jack says warmly. Michael smiles at him, doesn’t fault him for a second about the physical reservation. Maybe they’ll drink kahlua laced cocoa and snuggle tonight or something.

“Do you think this is as good an idea as Gavin does?” Asking is the first thing Michael does once he’s belted in the passenger seat. Time for some real talk. 

“Do you,” Ryan tosses back.

“That’s a cop out.”

“So’s ‘I asked you first’.”

One of Michael’s favourite things about Ryan is how he doesn’t take shit. “Okay, maybe it is. But seriously, could you just-”

“I’ll admit from a certain perspective it seems ridiculous. A sham of a relationship, even. But you know people at Sweet Pulp think the same thing about just the three of us. I don’t know if Eric’s found out about Ray yet, but that’s not going to make it better. So if we can’t look at it from a societal perspective, or a long range one, a magician’s _so deep it’s into other dimensions_ perspective, the reason Geoff and Gavin are already super confident about it, it’s gotta be our own. And the truth of that shit is you want Geoff, more than you’d be comfortable admitting, and I’ve already had Jack as a when I see you around we’ll screw around buddy, and could happily make that once a week. And like I said earlier, nothing changes for Gavin.”

Michael nods. “Except for the keeping us separate thing. He’s done with that annoying crap now. Obviously. Since we can’t group-bone if the magician and non-magician soap bubbles stay apart.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. We were talking earlier. Get him to explain it to you. It’s dumb and I don’t want to.”

Ryan accepts the answer. “So my answer is yes. Yes, Gav actually had a good idea. But you can be hesitant, if you-”

“Fuck that,” Michael replies strongly. “I already said I’m happy as long as no one’s getting left out. Geoff said that’s his exact fuckin’ reason, that the few gap points are shitty and need to be fixed. I’m great with this.”

“And what happens in six months when Geoff’s bond with Gavin is still stronger than his with you?”

“Well no fucking shit, dumbass. It’d be fucked up if anything beat out journeyman and master.” God, why was Ryan’s voice so wary asking that? Like Michael would fall apart like a pathetic asshole at the idea that a fated relationship would be paramount. Fuck, Gavin cares more about Geoff and Jack than his family back in England. Geoff and Gavin are going to be eternal, Michael gets that. He only needs a chance to build something different, not something equal.

“Yeah?”

“Fucking _yes_. Why are you so surprised? It’s not like Team Dynamite is the same as Team Crazymad. Team Master and Journeyman is gonna be different too. Shit, maybe even better. I can admit that, even if I’ve barely seen it in action. But it’s not gonna ruin everything for everyone. Since when the fuck do I have problems with relationships being different?”

“Lind-”

“If one more person brings up Lindsay I’m going to jump off of a building. Primary or secondary relationship,” Michael starts, flourishing his left hand and stopping it palm up. “Absolutely no interest in a relationship at all.” He flourishes his right hand. Then he raises and lowers them both rapidly, an extremely out of balance weight scale. “Funny how they’re completely different goddamn things, huh.”

Ryan sighs and doesn’t say anything for the next few minutes, until the perfunctory “here” as he pulls to a stop in front of Jack’s.

“You’re not coming in?”

“How long is it going to take to find a place to parallel park versus how long is it going to take you to get changed and brush your teeth?”

“Okay, point.”

“I’ll circle the block, see you in five.”

Michael hops out and rushes up the sidewalk to the porch. It’s not like he’s in danger of being late, not with it only being three-ish now and getting a ride, but there’s no reason to be a douchebag dawdler and make Ryan use up all his gas.

Michael surveys the jumbled mess that is all his hastily packed belongings. Fuck knows where his backpacks are. Though, technically he doesn’t need to take his work backpack, he can just put his uniform on now. Except what if Ryan picks him up after work so Michael can spend the Tuesday of his suspension at UT hanging with him, or dicking around with Caleb when he’s not allowed in Ryan’s serious hands on workshops? Michael’s not going to demand an invite, but Ryan might offer. It’d be a nice distraction from wondering what Ray and Gavin are doing. Not that he’s jealous of them being alone together. That’s stupid. It’s really more about if they’re bad influences on each other for skipping the way Gavin is solo, attempting to follow Michael’s completely different schedule. And if he’s spending the day with Ryan he’ll want jeans and a t-shirt, so he’s not stuck in a fruity smelling uniform. Not to mention Ryan will make sure he eats at least once which means Michael needs to bring his toothpaste, and that tube won’t fit in the pocket of his work pants.

He actually needs to brush again now, too. Just in case someone decides to have a smoothie dessert after a cereal dinner. Sounds weird, but it’s not like stoners aren’t a huge part of Sweet Pulp clientele. 

Regular backpack packed, with a dinner compiled of Jack’s borrowed food on top, Michael locks up. He only has to wait at the end of the sidewalk for a few minutes before Ryan swings around the block again. Opening the door is enough proof that Ryan’s occupied himself during the repetitive time killing drive by doing karaoke; the music is blasting. As Michael clambers up into the SUV Ryan flicks down the volume, because he’s got manners. Michael immediately turns it back to the level it was on before, plus one more for good luck, because fuck small talk. Why talk when they can jam out?

When Ryan turns into the Sweet Pulp parking lot, Michael asks what’s on his mind. “You going back to Gavin’s?”

Jack and Ray are probably gone by now, dispersed to video games and building a bookshelf or mowing a lawn or whatever legit homeowners do. Gavin and Geoff though. Barring unforeseen circumstances, they’ll both be in their apartment. If Rye does go back he’ll be making a choice. Michael’s not quite sure if that choice is familiar sex with Gavin versus new and exciting sex with Geoff, or checking in with Gavin and what he truly wants versus accepting Geoff as a new relationship, but there is a choice.

“No, I’ve got rehearsal. But Wednesday night I’ll be free to sleep over. At Jack’s now, I guess. Maybe a few others could get in on that?”

Or maybe there won’t be a choice. Huh. He really thought it would be Ryan making the first overtly sexual move, but Ryan takes his responsibilities seriously. If he says he’s busy tonight and tomorrow, he’s busy.

Michael jumps out of the SUV and turns back to face the other half of Team CrazyMad. “I’ll sleep with everyone individually tomorrow and let you know who’s the best.”

“I know you’re joking but that’s hot and you really should.”

Michael leans in for the last kiss he’s going to get today, calves straining, then closes the door of the car.

He can’t clock in, obviously. Way too early for that. But he can sit in the staff booth and dick around on his mostly charged phone. Including texting Ryan back about his stupid comment.

**you realise by wednesday i’d be all stretched out like a plastic bag**

**less hot, huh**

The reply is a minute in coming. Probably Ryan not wanting to text and drive.

**i didn’t actually mean you’d bottom all five times but trust me it’s way hotter that way**

Michael snorts at his phone and dismisses the statement. It’s that or start thinking about a gangbang, and how it would change from Gavin’s silliness to Jack’s steady power to the unknown factor that is Ray. As much as that’s a good jerk off fantasy for tonight -assuming he and Jack are starting off slow and he needs to jerk off alone- right now he’s at work. He has to be work appropriate, which definitely means not showing off his boner to all the customers. Also on the To Do docket is figuring out how to get away with being a decent human being.

Michael really doesn’t want to come out as the victim of a hex at work. Bad enough that it’ll probably get revealed at school, now that Gav knows. If he outs himself here Neva and Eric will never stop talking behind his back about it. He has to stay a lot longer at Sweet Pulp than he does at Juno Bailey. Too long to consider dropping a bomb like this.

Still, as far as Michael knows Harley is still rocking the advice of cleansing. Since it’s completely bullshit medical advice she needs to know better. Their shared hex might not be contagious, but the repercussions have been made pretty clear. And if you think about it, as much as it’s fucked with him, Michael’s gotten off lucky. No one called the cops on him, and he didn’t kiss someone too young or too old. The longer Harley doesn’t know how to fix herself, the greater the chance that she’ll get a bad break.

Michael leaves his backpack on the slightly sticky tabletop -he’ll have to fix that once he’s on the clock- and saunters up to the counter. “Anyone have Harley’s number?”

“Nope.”

Brynn smiles perkily. “There’s a post on Facebook if you want to wish her luck.”

This is the moment. This is when Michael either outs himself or leaves her to fend for herself. Or- or he follows a third option.

Back at the booth Michael pulls Facebook up on his phone. Not something he’s often on, but it’s company policy that you have to follow Sweet Pulp’s page. Harley has too, Michael finds her easily enough. She’s a recently married middle class white girl, the perfect demographic for an unlocked profile. He clicks over to her and starts typing her message in a DM.

 **I don’t know if cleansing will work. Gavin doubted it. He’s a journeyman but he knows his shit. If it doesn’t a really good master is Jack at** motherfucker! He doesn’t know Jack’s goddamn phone number. He backspaces _at_ , then rolls his eyes at his stupidity. Jack still needs to be contacted, duh. Michael retypes **at 11 Burrows. He takes walk-ins.** Well, probably does. At least a consult, and it’s not like Jack doesn’t already know what the cure is. It’s really a matter of did he make more than one tube’s worth yesterday.

There. Conscious absolved. He’s done what he can, and now he doesn’t have to feel responsible for her life possibly going even more to hell. Michael leans back on the vinyl and pulls up Youtube. Maybe one of his channels has updated.

***

Michael’s almost out of the strip mall parking lot when a horn blares at him. Instinct takes over. He bolts a few feet in a random direction to avoid getting run over. He doesn’t get run over. In fact, no asshole even zooms past for Michael to flip off as he or she richly deserves. 

He’s only begun to tamp down on his adrenaline when a second honk fills the air. This one is accompanied by his name, shouted. There’s nothing to do but look for the source, if only to punch it in the mouth for the scare.

Close to Sweet Pulp’s front door is Ryan’s SUV. Michael didn’t notice it before because half the cars in Austin that aren’t pick up trucks are SUVs. The only way he ever sees it, the only thing that ever makes it stand out from the fifty million other black SUVs is when he knows to look for it, when he’s expecting Ryan. And he sure as fuck wasn’t tonight.

The second shock of the evening is Geoff and Gavin. As in, they’re both in the car. They’re sharing the back seat, naturally.

“Well shit, surprise to fuckin’ me,” Michael comments, climbing into the one seat left, beside Ryan. “Thought I’d be talking the lowly bus. Thought _you_ weren’t free ‘til Wednesday?”

Ryan sighs. “Being out of high school doesn’t make you immune to peer pressure.”

“It’s not peer pressure if it’s something you already want to do,” Gavin protests, voice shrill enough to cut through the whole car.

“I am a hundred percent sure that’s not true.”

Michael has to know. “How’d he get to you? I thought you had rehearsal.”

“I did. He- uh, I guess there’s a bunch of he’s now. Gavin, that is, he pressured me throughout it.”

“Did he use the special text?”

“Yep.”

Now the tone makes sense. Ryan probably verbally decimated Gavin. Not that Michael can blame him. “And he’s not dead already?”

“I told him if he used it one more time I’d throw my phone out and only give you my new number. So I’ll give it one week before he uses it again.”

Where Ryan stops looks remarkably like where they just came from. It’s another strip mall; every business dark with no neon lights to advertise all night. There’s not even any streetlights, apart from the bus stop. The only difference is while there are still five smaller businesses, the end store takes up three times the room. Michael’s strip mall is uniform.

“So this is really great, but if we wanted to have car makeouts we could have done it in my strip mall. Since it’s like, a mirror fuckin’ reflection.”

“We’re not here for that.”

“We just have to wait for Ray and Jack. All will be revealed.”

Michael refrains from telling Geoff he strode past mysterious magician into douchebag late night psychic with that comment. He knows Geoff can dish mockery. He doesn’t know how well he can take it.

After a minute of the radio being the only thing that prevents silence from falling, Geoff speaks up. “Michael, if you want I could spell your face bruise. I don’t know why Gavin hasn’t yet.”

“Because you don’t teach me magi-medical stuff.”

“It’s not really medicine.”

“It’s a deep tissue bruise, and I don’t know how!” Gavin protests.

“You could research it!”

“I’ve been researching other things!”

Michael cuts in because Gavin’s starting to seem legit frustrated. That’s only funny sometimes. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

“And by ‘no, I’m fine’ I’m pretty sure I heard ‘shit yeah, you should totally fix my fucked up face, so I don’t look grotesque for two weeks’.”

It’s funny how that doesn’t piss him off. Normally adults contradicting his choices is a trigger for rage, but not now. Maybe it’s because Geoff’s so unlike anyone else who’s ever taken away Michael’s choices in the name of helping him. Pre-emancipation all the adults did things to/for/against him by authority of God. The court and the school admins have their job given right to adjust his course in life. At least Geoff’s attitude is purely his own mindset. He hasn’t gained it through other structures, it’s his own. It’s less of a dogma dogpile. If Michael ever said no and meant it there’d be less to fight against.

“Fuck it. Do the thing.”

“Come sit in the back seat.”

Michael circles the car to sit behind Ryan. It makes a lot more sense for Geoff to scoot to the middle than for Gavin. This way he’s close enough to Geoff that the man can do what he has to, and Gavin can see what Geoff’s doing. 

“Look. You’re not gonna get all of this. I need to explain it to Gav as I do it. But you know the bottom line, and you’re good with it. Right? Happy to have an unfucked face?”

“Well when you put it like that...”

“Shut up, asshole.”

Geoff’s right. Michael slips in and out of fugue rapidly as Geoff mentions ingredients. He’s pretty sure he loses less time due to methodology instructions, since all the unnameable things just end up in a mash covering Geoff’s hand.

“Spit in it.”

“Uh.”

“It needs your DNA. Spit in it.”

Michael does. He can’t help but wonder what the repercussions would be if he didn’t. If bruise powder isn’t coded to him, does that mean everyone in the car suddenly has healed bruises? Or maybe it’s more. Maybe everyone no longer ever bruises? Ryan’s got a window rolled down so they don’t suffocate in the car as they wait, would the anti-bruise powder effect everyone that a particle in the air touches? Could it get the whole city? Michael doesn’t know, he can’t see the next square of the flowchart. But both Geoff and Gavin seem certain he should, so hocking some spit it is. Then, without even a second of warning, Geoff slaps Michael in the face with his gunky hand.

“I’m going to fucking murder you,” Michael says darkly. Ryan’s clearly been watching in the rearview mirror, he’s doing his high pitched giggle. At least Gav isn’t being a douchebag.

“Don’t move your jaw, asshole.”

Michael holds back from breaking Geoff’s goddamn nose as the master steadfastly holds the goop on his cheek. After a length of concentrated silence -apart from Ryan, who’s still hooting- Geoff starts counting up from fifty. At sixty he pulls his hand away. “Wipe yourself up with this.”

Michael takes the red cloth offered, but doesn’t quite commit to rubbing it on his face yet. “Special magic rag?”

Geoff smirks. “It’s a handkerchief, dude. I have room to carry shit because briefcases are superior to pants.”

“Sod off,” Gavin says in the tone of the millionth repeat of an argument. “My jeans look great on my arse. What does your-”

“Briefcase do for my figure?” Geoff coos, batting his eyes. “I don’t know, but it carries the shit I fucking need.”

“Car!” Ryan interrupts, suddenly alert.

It’s the first time Michael’s seen Jack’s car. Assuming it’s his, and this super shady meeting isn’t his bois and Geoff having arranged for the hexing magisupremicist to come here post-bail. Michael wouldn’t put it past Ryan and Gavin, not for a second. Gavin’s belief in retaliation is why Michael didn’t tell him in the first place. And the more he gets to know Geoff, the less the tattooed man seems like he’d be adverse to a bucket of revenge. 

The real question is if they’ve brought that fucker here for revenge, can Michael indulge or does he need to be the adult? He’s legally proven he can be, but does he have to? Geoff’s responsible for Gavin. He wouldn’t set this up if there was a chance he could get in deep trouble, would he?

Michael doesn’t have to think about it for long. Ray stumbles out of the smaller car and any chance of a vengence plot is wiped out.

“I thought you had a curfew?” Michael asks when they’re all out of their vehicles and aimlessly standing in the middle of the parking lot.

“Snuck out. And by snuck out I mean only one person is home and he’s sleeping so no one notices to care,” Ray explains. “Plus Jack makes a good wheels man.”

Jack flashes a thumbs up and a cheesy grin.

“Welcome to the light side of the dark side of magic.”

“What,” Ray asks, confused. 

Michael can’t help but notice that Ryan’s looking at Jack for answers, not Gavin. Good call. Even if Gav did make promises earlier to be better about the soap bubble bullshit, it was still Michael he told them to, not Ryan. No way Gavin was dumb enough to harass Ryan more than he absolutely had to during rehearsal, so there’s no way they had that conversation yet.

Geoff’s actually the one to answer. “The dark dark is hexing, obviously. That’s like the definition, essentially. But we’re about to fuck with people’s shit, and if we weren’t magicians we’d probably get our asses arrested. So light-dark. Or dark-lite, if you will.”

Fucking with people’s shit evidently means breaking and entering. Into a bowling alley, specifically. 

“Who’s ready for anti-Terms of Service bowling?” Gavin shouts. 

Ryan frowns contemplatively. Michael can’t exactly _see_ it; the dark building is only lit by moonlight and Ryan’s at the wrong angle to be illuminated, but Michael knows his boyfriend. Ryan cares about semantics. “I don’t even know what that is. Wouldn’t it just be B and E?”

Geoff shakes his head. “No one’s getting hurt. The only thing we’re actually taking is the popcorn and that’s pennies wholesale. Not a crime if there’s no bad outcome.”

Michael snorts. Yep, Geoff and Gavin are fated, if only because they both seem indifferent to the rules.

“Can someone find the fucking lightswitch, please?” Ray yelps, before audibly thunking into something.

According to Gav, turning the power on will be suspicious since most of the neighbourhood is dark but with a few bits of magic they won’t need it. From that point on it’s sort of a whirlwind of charms. Between the three of them they work at least five charms Michael can see getting the lanes get turned on. Not that Michael has any clue what that involves, from either a magic perspective or bowling machinery perspective, but there’s a bit of swearing, and a lot of hands delving into briefcases and pockets and some words that make Michael’s brain blank.

Next on the list is Geoff lighting the room. Not through any means that would make sense, but by giving first Gavin, then Jack, then Ray a grapefruit sized diamond of light that hovers above their heads. Ray makes a Sims comment when Geoff gets to him, and of course Michael can’t unsee it as a plumbob by the time it’s his turn. 

“So just double-checking, this light won’t hover above me forever, right?” At least if this magic goes wrong he won’t have to deal with it himself, Gavin and Ray will be right beside him at school. But he’d really rather avoid anything like that.

“Master here. I mean I could explain _why_ it works...”

“That’s your favourite trick with dumbasses, isn’t it?”

Geoff smirks. “It’s in the repertoire. For the record, it’s fine. It’ll stop the first time you aren’t in darkness, and it won’t renew.”

With the six of them lit up, and the lanes working, it’s time to pick balls. Or at least that seems like the plan until they get up to the front of the building. It’s where the balls and shoes are, but it’s also where the snack bar is. Ray and Gavin immediately wander away from the racks in opposite directions. Gavin starts fucking around with the dead popcorn machine, but Ray’s interests lie elsewhere.

“There’s like eight soda options, guys. Pepsi, Brisk, diet shit. There’s fuckin’ three Mountain Dews. This fountainhead says Mountain Dew Typhoon. What the fuck is that even?”

“No way,” Michael twists to look at Ray. “That stuff is discontinued. Sucks. I voted and everything.”

“So you really liked it?”

“Yeah.” The tropical flavour was by far the most delicious. More importantly, it was something it was safe to argue with church friends about.

“So you drink that, we drink something else, and any action stays because we wanna?” Ray offers.

“Pour me a cup.” 

Bowling seems like the kind of game Michael should be good at. It’s the sort of wholesome shit a youth group does frequently, after all, third only to pg rated movies and hiking. Michael paid his time, he should have the skills. Unfortunately for his past self’s mental stability, Noah, his first _I refuse to let this be a crush_ was a key member. Michael spent most of every event he couldn’t get out of hiding in bathrooms or finding a way of being preoccupied with his back facing Noah. Not optimal positions for learning the fucking game. Tonight will be different. Michael goddamn insists.

“Who wants to teach me how to play?”

“Oh Jack, teach me how to play!” Geoff repeats in a British falsetto.

“Sure thing, baby,” Jack growls.

Michael would tell them to fuck off except he actually wants to see where this goes. Where it goes is Jack nestling up behind Geoff and teaching girl-him how to handle the bowling ball in a very sensual manner, only for Geoff to swoon and dip back in Jack’s arms. It’s pretty damn funny, even if they’re unhelpful assholes.

“Okay but seriously though. I don’t know how to do this.”

“Act like you’re playing RocketBowl in real life,” is Ray’s brilliant suggestion.

“That’s great, except not everyone plays indie games, fuckhead. So for realz, are there rules to this bitch?” 

“Yeah yeah, come here. I’ll teach you.”

When Jack’s actually trying he does a good job. Soon enough they’re in one on one games based on skill level. He and Ryan are definitely the worst. Surprisingly it’s Gavin who’s paired with Jack for best.

Two size large drinks and a few games later Michael desperately needs to piss. The bathroom would be pitch black if not for his plumbob. It’s not like there’s a panoramic window in a washroom for the moon to streak into. Michael decides to use the urinal, too many shadows would be caused in the stalls and Michael doesn’t like living out a horror movie. 

He’s zipping up his pants when Ray comes in. After a second of indecision Michael decides to ignore men’s bathroom etiquette and start talking to him. It’s the first time he’s gotten him alone, and they have some shit to talk about. As much as he looks happy Michael can’t stop hearing _this escalated quickly_ repeat in his head. It’s important that Ray’s not just going with the flow.

“So you know about earlier today-”

“When we decided to be a fuck group of boyfriends? Or something else?” And he’s not even being sarcastic. Michael can tell Ray’s completely fucking genuine. Shit, he really is the sweetest one of them. Hopefully one of the others will act as a barrier so Michael’s endless pessimism doesn’t drag Ray down. Gavin, maybe. The caveman theory helps keep his boi pretty damn chipper.

“Uh, no. That. That was the thing I meant.”

“Okay, so what about it?”

“This doesn’t feel insanely fast to you? I mean it does to me, and I was already dating two of them and you were my choice.”

“Technically didn’t Gavin do something first and force your hand? And also, you’re all choices of mine. But seriously though?” Ray shrugs. “I’m what’s known in professional terms as a chill-ass Puerto Rican. Do I want my parents to find out I’m soon to be banging five people? No. Am I happy to be banging five people? Yeah. I like you and Gavin, and you and Gavin like Jack and Geoff and Ryan. That’s enough until I actually get to know them.”

“So you’re good with everything?”

“Yeah, I’m cool.”

“Cool,” Michael repeats. He’s not sure he can fathom being as relaxed as Ray is, chill-ass, as he puts it. But if the guy is happy Michael’s not going to bring him down on purpose.

“Cool. So unless you protest or whatever, I’m going to give you a handjob.”

Ignoring the heat that sparks in his gut at the blatant sexual offer, Michael makes a face. It just seems like a really stupid way to say it. “Do people ever protest?”

Ray shrugs. “Not on tv, but you were all permission first with me, so...”

“Permission goddamn granted,” Michael says as quickly as he can.

Michael jumps right in. After all, there’s no reason to wait. Not even the realisation that he’s making the first sexual move, not Ryan, can stop him. Ray’s already proven that getting it on in a washroom can be hot. Michael just wants to double check. 

He shoves Ray’s t-shirt up and unbuckles his belt. The buckle is a classic Nintendo controller. Just like everything else with Ray, it walks the line between cool and hipster and completely dorky. Multiple lines. Hovers on a grid point? Whatever. The point being Michael’s able to get it open and Ray’s zipper unzipped without a major struggle, without looking like a complete failsack. Next he forces his hand past the barrier of tight elastic and into the crisp white underwear. Ray’s hand is on him just as easily, though he takes the time to push down Michael’s boxer briefs first. 

It takes about a minute to toy each other into complete hardness, because they’re human males, not porn star robots. And unlike the last two times Michael’s been with Ray, this time his new boi gets his talk on. “You know they’re all just outside that door. I bet they could hear us.”

“Maybe,” Michael grants. It seems kind of gross for the acoustics to be that good in a public bathroom, but realism isn’t the point.

“Maybe? I think probably. Any second now a guy will slip through that door. Who do you think will come in first to see what’s going on? See what’s being done to you.”

It’s only a handie. It’s just a hand job. But what if it was more? What if Ray was fucking him? So hard, so fast- not fucking, _nailing_. Screwing. Pounding. What if he was doing it so hard Michael couldn’t catch his breath?

“Gavin, maybe. He gets curious. He’s kinda dumb, maybe he wouldn’t even notice his boi was gone until he heard the moans. But then he’d burst in, see you pulling on your own hair to remind yourself to shut up, except you just can’t.”

That could happen, Michael thinks. He’s not exactly known for being quiet. Ray fucking him could easily make him groan. Especially if he had no way to control it. If Ray bent him over the sinks then crossed his wrists and held them like reins Michael would have no choice but to take every thrust exactly how Ray wanted to give it. 

“Could be Ryan though. He’s better with boundaries, but he’s got ears and a dick. Think you could jerk off two people at once?”

Michael can’t help but add Ryan to his fantasy. Ray’s still fucking him but Michael’s not displayed on the blue linoleum sinks anymore. Instead he’s on his hands and knees. Ray’s still behind him, fucking into him like he’s meat to pound, but now Ryan’s in front of him. Michael’s sucking dick like a champ. Like Ryan was earlier, with Jack.

Ryan’s cock is thick through his mouth, head sitting in his throat. Ryan and Ray would be off tempo, one stroking in while the other’s pulling out. The strength of them making his body sway. If they spit-roasted him he’d be stuck between them.

“Or maybe Geoff. Maybe Geoff’s the one who walks in.”

Michael really does moan, then. The noise tears out of his lips as it feels like his groin drops into a pit of fire.

“Oh yeah? Geoff does it for you, huh. Cool. So Geoff walks in and sees my hand on you, and he’s like shit, lets make this a touchfest. He yanks down your jeans, all the way” Michael can see it, how Geoff would immediately take charge, “and starts playing with your ass. I bet he knows a charm to turn dispenser soap into lube. Jack says he’s been out forever, he’d know his stuff. Geoff would slick you up and start fingering you. Not like he’s going to fuck you, just like he wants your ass open. And I’ll still be jerking you and you’d be pulling on your hair and trying not to let the others hear us. Geoff and I’d kiss over your shoulder and you’d bite your lip and try not to whimper when I put my thumb on your slit and Geoff added another finger.”

Oh fuck, he can picture it. Geoff adding another, and another, until it’s just the thumb and then it tucks in and pushes in and Michael’s getting a whole fist and Ray’s there to keep him hard, to keep him taking it, oh fuck “oh fuck oh fuck!” 

Michael comes into Ray’s palm, his balls clenching from the core of him. He’s almost at that clear place, _almost_ , but knowing how bad of an idea it would be holds him back. It didn’t work out well before, and Michael’s having too much fun to ruin the night.

He’s still a bit out of it though, and not quick enough on the uptake for Ray. What seems like an instant later, Ray’s own hand is joining Michael’s temporarily stilled one. He finishes himself off while Michael’s still gasping for breath, fingers vigorously knuckling up and down against Michael’s, too wet with spunk and precome for any real friction.

As soon as Ray’s done washing his hands he sloughs off his hoodie and holds it out. “I get all sweaty afterwards. Take it for me?”

“Just put it on the bench.”

“Then it’ll get cold by the time I want it. Just keep it warm for me?”

Michael rolls his eyes, but puts the hoodie on. If it’ll make Ray happy there’s no good reason not to.

The booth seating around each ball return is to the left of the guys bathroom. They get almost to the third lane, the first turned on lane, before anyone notices. Michael’s sure it’s due to the sudden light in Ryan’s periphery, not any noise they’re making. Michael’s not really a post sex chatterbox, especially when he can’t have a shower moment after. Ray, while more energetic than Michael is, isn’t talking either. He nods a greeting as they both slouch into the high back bench and turns back to his game. Good. Michael would rather be ignored right now, until he can recenter himself.

Except, of course not. Ryan’s noticing causes Gavin to notice and he’s a whole lot less discreet. There’s about a second between his boi looking over to see what’s got Ryan’s attention and the Brit catcalling. “Someone’s been having sex!”

“Shut up Gavin,” Ray commands. 

A moment later Gavin squeals as the ball Geoff hurled bashes into Gavin’s shin. That’s the kind of thing Michael takes joy in seeing, even if it’s a little bit distant right now. Sometimes Gavin just deserves getting shit. Frequently, even.

“You guys play. We’re taking a munchies break.”

Despite the words, Ray doesn’t seem to have any interest in getting up. In fact he tilts over a little and puts his head on Michael’s shoulder. After a second Michael returns the favour. His head slots in resting on Ray’s scalp. It’s not a body affirming shower, but it’s nice in its own way.

Michael’s not sure how long they’ll be staying here. After all, three of the six bowlers have school in the morning. Ray’s already tired, evidently, and Gavin doesn’t fare well with less than eight hours. One thing Michael knows though is that he doesn’t dread going home. That’s a very nice lack of feeling.


End file.
